Peace, Love, Sunshine, and Death Glares
by MidnightRhymer
Summary: Emily never thought she's speak again. She thought, least of all, that she'd be speaking to a vampire. That that vampire would save her life multiple times never crossed her mind, either. Spike/OC hints of Buffy/Angel rating to change due to later smut!
1. Merry Meet Even for Vampires

_Hello, all! This is actually the first __**ever**__ Buffy fanfiction. I've never written one before and it's been a long time since I've seen them in order, so some of this might not be cannon. Most of it will be sorta... AU tinged with cannon in that the events are the same but the people there are not. Dig it!_

Peace, Love, Sunshine, and Death Glares

Preface- Merry Meet (Even for Vampires)

Emily Gable was perfectly content to remain among the few in Sunnydale High School who never changed their routine. She wanted nothing more to graduate and disappear, preferably into the great unknown that was death. She honestly felt that she had nothing left ahead of her except for death. She felt she had no purpose left.

But, her life had yet to truly begin.

When Rupert Giles had gone to pick Emily up from Los Angeles, specifically the LAPD precinct building, he'd been expecting a small amount of the smiley, sunshiney girl he'd once known. He expected her to crack a smile once in a while, trying to reassure him that she was fine. What he'd found was much, much worse. Emily had already begun the slow process of burning up from within. She didn't crack so much as a cheeky grin on the way to Sunnydale. She was wearing the baggy black jeans and black t-shirt of her ex-long-term-boyfriend, and hadn't bothered with the _idea_ of cleaning the dirt and blood from her face. It had been the day after the... incident, and Giles hadn't been expecting much. Emily hadn't even met those expectations.

He honestly didn't know what was the most unnerving about her; the fact that she went out at night like a true bad ass, or the fact that she was so calm and quiet that he could believe she really was a bad ass. He had known his sister, Melinda Giles, had told her about vampires, werewolves, and the like, but he had no idea that she had been trained to defend herself until she dumped a bag full of stakes onto her bed, waiting in silence for the outburst of rage that would send her to an orphanage.

It had never come.

Giles had tried everything possible to get her to say even one word to him. He'd set Buffy and Willow on the girl, left her alone in the same room with Xander _and_ Angel. He'd even gone so far as to force her to listen to the BeeGees, which he knew she despised. Every time; nothing. She'd simply get up and leave, without saying a word of where she was going or what she was doing.

It was another one of these failures that sets our stage.

"Emily; where on earth are you going at this late hour?" Giles shouted, hoping against hope for a reply. It was his custom to shout it, hoping one day that she'd be annoyed enough to reply. All he got was the passive report of the door crashing closed before she was gone.

Emily secretly fumed within her mind, wishing she had the strength and courage to shout at her uncle that it was none of his business. However, she knew that if she so much as opened her mouth she would tell him everything. She didn't need to be the poster child for the tortured and traumatized; she'd seen enough of her own blood on the walls of her house in L.A. She had enough time to consider her options while she stared at her reflection in the glassy dead eyes of her mother, father, brother, and sister. Even when her ex-boyfriend and best friend had pulled her out those four short years ago, she hadn't said a word. She'd given a statement to the police in a monotone, never using an ounce of inflection. She hadn't looked away from the ring on her right ring finger that once belonged to her father.

As all the memories of the LAPD interrogation room finished flicking around inside her head, she caught the sound of a breaking stick and the rustle of leather on denimn. Her hands snaked their way cautiously to the stakes concealed at her waist as she sensed a presence descend upon her. Anger rose within her at being disturbed on her short walk to the liqour cabinet that was the Bronze. All she wanted was to get trashed one last time before her senior year began and she had to be sober for fear of slipping up.

_Sorry but I want to die, not become someone's meal._

She almost cracked a smile at the thought before she whorled around, her hands never leaving the waistband of her jeans.

He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. His long, peroxide blonde hair, so reminiscent of the golden age of rock that was Billy Idol, curled delicately around his face, damp as it was. His long, leather duster clung to him in all the right places, revealing wiry muscles in his arms that she had no doubt he would try to use to pin her to the ground and drain her dry. Yes, even though he was beautiful, she knew he was a vampire. His luminescent skin gave it away, as did the golden tint in his eyes. It didn't help that she had seen him just last year, although he'd been in a wheel chair at the time.

"Most little girlies would have screamed by now, or at least asked who I was," he said darkly, his south London accent sounding almost fake to Emily's unaccustomed ears. "It's a mite rude to not speak to someone you 'appen to be starin' at."

Emily said nothing, simply drew the stake from her belt and pointed it at him.

"What are you? A mute? I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you think. I may be a vampire, but I got morals," he said darkly.

That gave her a moment of pause. She knew it was dangerous to have one of those around a vampire, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't expected him to tell her he wouldn't kill her. They should have been fighting already; she had come out of the starting gates ready and willing to dust something, after all.

"I'm not a mute," she said, her voice cracking from long years of non-use. It was still its old, familiar high soprano, despite her dark appearance and dyed hair, which were all ploys to attract vampires ripe for the dusting.

"It speaks," he said with a smile. "Name's Spike. What's yours?"

"Emily."

_Ok. Shortest chapter of the whole thing out of the way. The shortest after this has 2, 528 words. Muah hahahahahaha. Thank you for reading, please review! Pretty please? I mean, uber pretty please?_

_Night_


	2. A Long Awaited Moment

_I want to thank Dolphinheart and Buffy Sparrow for adding this to their alerts list, Godric-is—MINE and Vampire's Suck. It's a Fact for adding me to their favorites list, and Buffy Sparrow for her lovely review which earned any and all of my open and shy readers this new chapter. If I missed anyone, I apologize. Two reviews for the next one, ok?_

Chapter One- A Long Awaited Moment

Spike stared at the young, petite Slayerette from the corner of his eye as they walked in silence. He could honestly say that, when she left Giles' house, he had been surprised. He'd been over to talk to the old geezer, but when she'd left unescorted, he'd been intrigued. She'd been brooding all the way to the corner where he finally decided it was in his best interest to reveal himself before something darker and scarier (not that there was much out there scarier than the Big Bad) came out of the woodwork and decided to try and make a tasty treat out of Giles's niece.

"What were you plannin' on doin' with tha stake, anyhow? It's not like you're the Slayer; I doubt you'd be able to take down the likes of me," Spike said, hoping to get her talking again.

She stopped dead in her tracks, hair hiding her eyes. He turned to face her, approaching with caution, scared he'd offended her in some way (which surprised the living hell out of him in the back of his mind, all things considered). Instead, she lashed out with a swift round house kick to the face followed by a swift series of punches that Spike felt break his bones. She swung the stake, stopping it an inch from his heart.

"My mother trained me from before I was able to walk to show no fear," Emily said softly, her voice still not quite used to talking. "That stays with you, even if nothing else does."

Carefully, she popped both his arm and shoulder back into place before she stooped. She pulled a dagger out of her boot and slid it across her wrist.

"What're you doing, pet?" Spike said, stepping back from the overpoweringly seductive smell of her blood.

She offered her bleeding wrist to him quietly. "If you don't take it, the others will smell it and then where will we be?"

Spike hesitated an instant, remembering that it was Giles' niece. However, he could hear heads perking up as he realized that they were directly across from the cemetary.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but..." Spike trailed off, taking the proffered wrist.

He slid into his game face quietly, looking at her to make sure she was still absolutely positive about wanting to let him feed from her. She nodded once, and he slowly lowered his lips to her wrist.

Her blood was like nothing he'd ever before tasted. There was so much power hidden within her that he had a feeling she could have been a god. However, his main concern at the moment was licking her wounds for her, and helping her feel a little better about beating on him, seeing as his bones had already set. He heard her sharply intake a breath when his tongue touched the wound, but when his eyes found her face, it was contorted in pleasure, not pain. He lapped along the cut, cleaning it of the pooling blood, refusing to drink anymore from her. The small amount he had was enough to convince him that anything deeper would have him addicted as hell.

And that was not good.

"Let's get you out of here, pet," Spike said, his face changing back into that of a human.

She scowled slightly, but allowed herself to be led toward the Bronze. Spike knew that he wasn't exactly welcome with the Slayer and the Scooby Gang (who frequented the club), but he didn't care. The Bronze was just about the only place to get liquor in Sunnydale that didn't involve a couple of bar fights. Surprisingly, however, the bouncer opened the rope for Emily, and in turn Spike, smiling as she went by. She dropped him a wink before heading inside with Spike following.

"You know him?" he asked.

Emily shrugged before heading to the bar, hoping that lapsing back into silence would get her vampire stalker to go away. However, when she hopped onto the bar stool and nodded to the bartender, she realized nothing was ever that easy. From the corner of her eye, she could see Xander approaching, and she could sense that Spike was close. Not close enough to be seen by Xander, but close enough for her to realize she wasn't going to get rid of him easily. Considering how awkward she was in social situations, especially after having broken her personal vow of silence, and beating the millenia, she had a feeling that Xander's approach wasn't going to be a welcome distraction.

"Hey, Emster," Xander said, popping up next to her. "How's it shakin'?"

Emily gave a noncommittal grunt, letting him know that she wasn't completely ignoring her. She had to resist the urge to speak.

"We still on yes or no questions?" he asked after giving the bartender his, Buffy's, and Willow's drink orders.

She nodded once, a commited yes.

"You want to join us?"

Shaking her head, Emily accepted her mudslide, the only thing she was willing to consume with a stalker so close, and headed off in the general direction of the darkest corner of the place, where her usual table sat. She plonked down, knowing Spike would come over, secretly hoping that she was right.

"You know, if you ever want to make friends, this is not the way to go about it," Spike said, sitting across from her, back to the crowd.

"I didn't come here to make friends," she said, pulling a pack of smokes from her pocket.

Spike, one step ahead of her, offered her a light. "Why did you come to Sunnyhell, then?"

"I came here to die," she replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world for someone her age to say. The words came out in a puff of smoke, seeming to make them all the more tangible because of it. Spike choked on his beer.

"Pretty young thing like you wants to die? Where's the logic behind it, love? If you'd wanted to die, why'd you bring that stake out with you, hm?"

"I said I wanted to be dead, not undead," she replied, taking a sip of her mud slide before taking another drag from the cigarette.

"You're eighteen years old, you smoke, you drink, you carry around a stake, and you have a death wish. Just what kind of girl are you?" Spike asked, although the flirty double talk in his words made her leap at the challenge.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked, smiling cheekily.

A small warning light went on in her brain, causing a mental argument.

_Should you really be flirting with a vamprie?_

_**Maybe you could convince him to kill you.**_

___The fact remains that you're __flirting__ with a __vampire__! How the hell does that work when you told yourself you wouldn't be speaking for the rest of your life, or your death for that matter._

_**He's a hot vampire, though.**_

_ Why him? Angel's hot too, and he has the benefit of a soul._

_**He also happens to be Buffy's.**_

_ You've never been above stealing other girl's guys before._

_**She's the Slayer. No matter how much training I have, she could still whoop my ass.**_

_ So you're scared._

_**Damn straight**__._

_ Why open up to him?_

_**He's different.**_

_ How? Why?_

To that, her mind held no answer. She could only sit, staring blankly out at the dance floor, watching the previously mentioned ensouled vampire enter the club and start to make his way over to Buffy, and contemplate the meaning behind tonight's brash actions. It wasn't until Angel's head snapped up and looked her way that she realized her true mistake.

She was still bleeding, like it or not, and she knew there was power in her blood. There was enough power there to make her instantly a target for Angel's curiousity. Taking another sip of her mudslide and trying to look innocent, she quietly wrapped her arm in her shirt, hoping to dampen the scent. She knew in her heart that that would not deter Angel, however, and instantly sought a way to escape. The ladies room was too far, and the exit itself was still farther. Going on the dance floor had always held unexpected consequences. She also didn't anticipate running into either Oz or Willow, who both had taken to trying to get her to talk as if their lives depended upon it.

_Fuck._

By the time she realized her only option, it was too late. Spike was turning, soon to discover his grandsire, and Emily had no way out. Her mind flitted through all the possible explinations of her wounds, each becoming feebler than the last. She knew that her only true option was the silence she'd resigned herself to a long, long time ago. Suddenly, it didn't seem so long.

"Who's your friend, Spike?" Angel asked, sitting down beside him. He didn't recognize her quickly enough to take back his comment, given her red hair that had previously been black. That, and he'd suppressed the memory of the first month of summer, spent in the hospital by the young woman's bed side.

Spike resisted the urge to tell Angel to sod off; the be-souled demon had an agenda that had nothing to do with the Slayer, and Spike had a feeling that there was something he was missing. So, rather than hinder, he decided that, for once, he would team up with the poncy bugger his grandsire had become.

"Name's Emily. She's Giles' niece," Spike said softly, looking pointedly at Angel, as if to tell him not to fuck around. "What's your interest in the company I decide to keep?"

"Other than the fact that she looks more decent than the other whores who have kept your bed warm in the past, I think she's bleeding," Angel said, ignoring the look entirely in favor of staring curiously at Emily. In his mind, he winced at the comment, knowing that he was calling Emily a whore, but Spike didn't seem to realize that he remembered everything that had happened when he'd lost his soul, contrary to popular opinion.

Spike's eyes narrowed at the comment, but something in the corner of his eye caught his attention more than the fact that he still hated Angel. Emily was repressing laughter at the comment, her eyes watering with tears. However, more dangerous recognition dawned quickly. The tears _weren't_ tears of laughter. They were tears of fear. Spike jumped across to the stool beside her and took her face in his hands, forcing him to look at her.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked tenderly, his colbalt blues holding her emerald greens firmly in place.

"He knows," she whispered softly, but there was a crack of a smile in her voice. "He's always known. But now he realizes what it means."

"What does he know?" Spike asked, his eyes not leaving hers.

"You're an alchemist," Angel said simply, as if that cleared everything up.

Emily clapped her hands together and pressed them to the table. As if by magic, a pad of paper appeared. Spike, startled but able to hide it, didn't remove his eyes from hers. "So what?"

"The last true alchemist," Angel whispered. "Only on the Hellmouth."

"What the bloody hell does alchemy have to do with the Hellmouth?" Spike hissed.

"Oh, nothing, but your girlfriend here is going to be in big trouble if any other vampires figure her out. She won't be able to go outside in daylight, let alone darkness. If there's one thing most vampires want, it's an alchemist to call their own," Angel replied, standing up. "A true alchemist is hard to come by anymore, so most will settle on unnatural alchemists."

Emily had never been so ashamed of herself. Her own mother had died because of her talents; she couldn't let her uncle go out that way, too. Faced with the choices of a life on the run or finding someone to kill her because she couldn't do the job herself, she turned to Spike silently.

"Do me a favor, will you?" she asked.

"Anything, love," Spike said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Snap my neck and end this now."

Spike froze in shock. He had been expecting her to ask him to protect her, or walk her home, or something to that effect. Normally, he would have done as she asked in a heartbeat, but, in his mind as well as hers, something was different about his new-found playmate. She was special, despite what he could see she thought of herself. Instead of scoffing, he pressed a tender, chaste kiss to her forehead. "Anything but that, love. I'll protect you, harbor you, kill for you even, but I'm not going to kill you."

"Aren't you supposed to be the Big Bad; Mr. Bad-Ass-Vampire-Who's-Gonna-Destroy-The-World?"

"We like to talk big, we vampires," Spike said simply. "But you've got everything in this world."

"Nice of you to think so," she said.

Spike could sense with growing unease that she was getting tired, and also that there was a dark stain on her pants where her wrist was resting. Quietly, he lifted it, revealing that, in an hour, the wound had not clotted. "What was on that knife, pet?"

"Lot's uh stuff," she mumbled.

"Anything that would prevent your wrist from clotting?"

Emily's eyes went wide as she recalled the spell she had helped Willow with just the night before. Her small, insignificant part had been to pop open tablets filled with a seemingly harmless substance called citrate and pour the powder out so that Willow could make slow dissolving herb caplets to aid in the process of the spell, meaning that she wouldn't have to watch it all day long. Citrate in its most common use is an anticoagulant, which prevents blood from clotting.

"Help me get to the ladies room," she said softly, hiding her fear as always. If, and it was a small if, the substance had managed to get into her blood stream, she'd rather not think about the torture she'd have to endure by going to the hospital, who would call Giles, who would demand an explination. She didn't want to explain the spell she'd been helping Willow with; a rather complicated number having to do with Angel's soul. Giles didn't approve of Angel, and everyone in the Scooby Gang knew it. However, Willow was the only one who generally wanted to help Buffy and Angel, sensing that the vampire was good for her friend in a way he would never really know. Rather than hinder their relationship, which Emily knew would work if Angel could get his head out of his ass, the young alchemist decided to help it along, procuring the more difficult Romani ingredients to make Angel's soul permenant. The spell needed two more days to ferment, which Willow had told Buffy quietly. Then, with Willow and her handy dandy soul restoring spell at the ready, Buffy could feel free to try to once again consumate the relationship.

Emily knew the spell would work.

Once inside the ladies room, with Spike standing beside her despite her protests, Emily cleaned out the wound, pulled a roll of duct tape and a pad of gauze sponge from one of the many pockets of her cargo pants, and began to dress the wound carefully. Spike watched all of this with growing curiousity until he finally had to ask.

"I don't suppose your mum taught you how to dress self inflicted wounds as well," Spike said skeptically.

"All alchemy requires a bit of sacrifice, be it energy or blood. My dad taught me how to dress my wounds quickly so as to prevent any contaimination," Emily said softly as she put away her purple duct tape and gauze sponge.

"Handy to have, that knowledge," Spike said softly as they headed back out.

Scenting the air, Spike's hand found the hollow of Emily's back. He steered her away from a group at the door, his eyes darting around looking for possible exits. He could sense a number of demonic auras, not a one of them anything he'd like to fight with the last alchemist by his side. Fyral, shedu, and a few jinn were standing around inside the Bronze, and, in looking over at the Scoobies, he could see that they too sensed it. Quietly, Spike steered his charge to the corner before turning back to the demons.

"The jinn are after me again. Great. Are you sure you can't just snap my neck and get it over with? They'll kill Uncle Rupert if you don't," Emily growled, but Spike could tell she was thinking of a way out.

"I highly doubt they'll get to your uncle. Once the demons find out you're under the Slayer's good graces, they'll leave you alone," Spike said, but something in the atmosphere changed.

Emily scented the air quietly as Spike spoke, trying to soothe her non-existant nerves. Essence of Jinn was the most promeninent scent to her unyielding nose, but it was laced with the scent of Fyral and shedu, one scent she knew intimately. It was the same scent that filled her nostrils when she had walked into her home in L.A. after her parents had been held captive. She had gone with the intention of using her life to free them, only to find them already dead (headed that way, anyway). She'd killed two of their eight person gang, causing the others to scatter. The two she had killed had been humans, witches, but humans none the less. As a result, the police attributed it to gangs, which she had not bothered to correct them on. She hadn't expected the "gang" to follow her to Sunnyhell.

Rage at being discovered and possibly losing another member of the precious little family she had left filled her to the core, and she allowed it to grow largely unchecked. She hadn't been strong enough to protect her mother and father four years previously, but she was strong enough to protect her uncle (and, her heart said secretly, Spike) even without her untamed rage. Using the techniques her father had taught her to channel her emotions, which he had called the Way-of-the-Sith Alchemy, Emily prepared to destroy her enemies. All she needed was a clear space on the floor, which she quickly established by throwing the chair and table out of her way. It drew the attention of the hooded demons, who could sense the rising energy. Spike turned to look at her, surprise on his face, but she shoved him against the wall, dropped to her knees, and clapped her hands together as if to pray. She heard the demons growing closer quickly, cutting through the crowd to get to her. As soon as enough energy filled her, she slammed her hands palm down into the ground, a complicated transmutation circle filling her mind.

Although Scientific Revolution thinkers believed that alchemy was chemistry, they were mistaken. Alchemy is the bending of magical energy to a certain form in order to force it to perform instant and complicated tasks. When she was young, Emily had mastered the art of drawing transmutation circles from scratch, allowing her to bend her magic into a great many things, like figurines, roses, and even once, a dog. Normally, alchemy on living things is impossible. Only a true, pure alchemist can perform alchemy on a living thing. Emily's parents weren't fooled by the olden discription of pure; their daughter had been twelve at the time, and they knew for a fact that she wasn't a virgin. Considering their own sorted pasts, they couldn't have passed judgement on her, anyway. However, Emily, the following year, had discovered the wonder that was the philosopher's stone, which her father had procured for her from the local Fyral demon ring. She had instantly began breaking down what made it up.

Such analytical thinking was what had kept her alive for years.

Emily's complex mental transmutation had simultaneously turned the floor of the Bronze from concrete to metal using the latent elements in the rocks in the concrete, and had turned the rubber around the inground electrical wiring to rubber dust, exposing active copper wiring to a highly conductive flooring that centered on the path that the demon gang was traveling on. They weren't wearing shoes, thus completing the circuit.

Six demons dropped dead as if from no where less than six feet away from their intended target, and only the Scoobies and Spike saw it happen. Not even Emily witnessed it, given the fact that she was already transmutating the floor back to its original concrete state.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Spike hissed, stooping to help her up.

"That was me killing the bastards that murdered my parents," she said softly, all the hate and anger drained from her in light of her recent alchemic feat. It had been over four years since she'd done any real alchemy. She popped a pencil out of a tree or things like that. She once transformed a piece of wood in shop into a perfect miniature of Steam Boat Willie and his boat, but that was child's play. She honestly had never heard of anyone who could do what she had just done and remain standing after such a long time away from the art, but who was Emily to argue?

Emily righted the table and chairs before collapsing into one. Her mudslide had somehow miraculously survived the event, leading her to wonder if the gods were actually on her side for once or if they were just toying with her, bidding their time until they found a way to kill Giles and destroy the small amount of confidence her recent feat instilled within her.

Emily took a gulp of the still freezing shake as she watched Buffy and Angel approach and Spike sweep the ash of the demons under a nearby table. Quietly, she lit another cigarette and put it between her lips as Buffy and Angel sat down across from her.

"What brings you out here, Emily?" Buffy asked quietly, eyeing Spike who was still hiding the evidence.

Emily shrugged, puffing away at her cancer stick in silence.

"You'll speak to Spike but you won't speak to Buffy?" Angel asked softly. "I was under the impression you didn't even know him."

Emily somehow found the strength to glare, and it was a rather menacing one, too, since even the Slayer scooted away just a little.

"After the night she's had, I'd recommend leaving her alone, ya great pouf," Spike said darkly, moving back over beside her.

"What interest is she to you, Spike?" Buffy growled. "I highly doubt she'd be able to fend you off, so is making her your midnight snack your game?"

Emily stood up sharply, finally spilling her drink, and narrowed her eyes at Buffy. With one swift, almost unseen kick to the face, she broke Angel's nose before anyone else could move. She drew a stake from her belt and brought it closer to his heart than she had to Spike's, proving her point effectively.

"I think she's trying to tell you she can defend herself, Slayer. After all, she's the one who killed those demons, not me," Spike said softly, watching as Emily cracked Angel's nose sharply back into place and allowed it to heal before sitting down quietly, once again the picture of shy and demure. Anyone walking by never would have guessed that she'd attacked a vampire with lightning quickness only moments before.

"Ok, so she can defend herself. But why the hell are you with her, Spike?" Buffy growled. "It's not like she's giving you anything other than possibly some amusement."

"I think you'd better watch it, Buffy."

The observation came not from Spike, but from Angel, whose eyes had not left the source of the blood running down his face since she'd attacked. Emily's eyes were closed, but he didn't need to see them to know that they were probably a glowing red color. He could understand why Buffy's questions hurt her; he was probably the only one in the room who knew the truth about why Spike and Emily were so attracted to each other. He didn't need to know her sorted past to realize that she was as much a danger to herself as Spike was to any human within a five mile radius.

Buffy, too, could feel the rage emenating from the corner of the Bronze where they sat. She knew that if she kept running her mouth, she would be at the epicenter of the explosion. Rather than leave with a barely veiled threat, she simply shot Spike a look and headed off to her friends. Angel, however remained.

"I know you're not going to talk to me, and I don't blame you. If I'm on the money today, I'd say the only reason you opened up to Spike is because of something deep inside you yearning for freedom. Just know that Spike isn't the only one out there willing and ready to protect you," Angel said softly as he stood.

Spike looked up at his grandsire, hatred forgotten for a moment, and thanked him silently. Angel nodded once and headed off on his own to allow Emily the time she needed to cool off.

"I've waited a long time for today," Emily said later, as Spike was walking her home.

"What do you mean?" Spike asked.

"I've thought about leaving Uncle Rupert to find them," Emily replied. "To kill them. I couldn't do it for fear that they'd come after him and evade me. Turns out all I had to do was slice my wrist open and offer it to a vampire."

"Vengeance isn't always the answer, kitten," Spike said softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He could see she was shivering.

"No, but it's always the most fulfilling solution."

_I like to think that there's a bit of truth to that last line. Of course, that's just me. How am I doing so far? See you next time._

_Blessed be,_

_Night_


	3. Two Sordid Pasts Unsordid

_**Okay, so I've been out for a while. I want to thank all my reviewers and apologize for the lapse. Between moving over the summer and taking a full load of college courses on top of high school ones, it's been a full year. However, I have found the balance and am now (hopefully) back in full swing. Naturally, I'll give you two chapters free and clear before you have to review again (although you could be nice and review anyway ;) )**_

_**WARNING: Angsty, lovey-dovey drama and a partially revealed past.**_

Chapter Two- Two Sorted Pasts Unsorted

The next day was Saturday; the last Saturday of Emily's last summer in high school. Ordinarily, she would have slept until noon, but instead, she donned her jeans and a t-shirt before heading out to Willow's house with paper and pen. When she had awoken in the morning, she had intended to go down stairs and say hello to her uncle, partly because she wanted to speak again, for the first time in forever, but mostly because she had the sudden desire to scare the bejesus out of the old man. She had opened her mouth while his back was turned in the kitchen, only to find that a small coughing sound followed by a croak escaped her throat. All the talking the previous night had succeeded in successfully throwing her vocal chords out of wack.

She'd scared the shit of her uncle that was for sure.

Using the pencil and paper method, she'd carefully explained certain portions of the previous night's events, skirting around the fact that she'd killed six demons and spoken aloud for the first time only to a vampire. She wasn't quite sure she was ready to open up to anyone else, but it'd be nice to get a jump on it. Suddenly, getting out of Sunnydale and finding a quiet hole to die in was the last thing on her mind.

Next, she had proceeded to write out a destination on the note pad, telling her uncle her plans for the first time since she was eleven years old and he had gone to L.A. for the week to babysit while her parents did business across the pond. Giles had been delighted to find her headed somewhere that didn't amount to copious amounts of booze, meaning that she wasn't fit to walk and he had to come get her, but if he had known that she was going to Willow's house to procure the items necessary for an introspective truth spell, he would have been horrified to know that she actually knew how to do something like that, let alone that she would want to. But Angel had touched on something the night before and Emily was desperate to understand her new blossoming attraction to "Captain Peroxide."

The bright, pre-noon sun was blinding when she stepped out of her uncle's apartment complex, and she was forced to re-evaluate her decision to be out so early. However, the truth spell had to be performed at exactly the right time, and she knew Willow was certain to have a moon chart at her place, so she was determined to get over there before noon, giving her plenty of time to prepare. She popped on a pair of sunglasses just to be safe.

She walked through town, past cemetaries, Xander and Buffy's houses, and finally found her destination at half past ten, exceedingly early for her to be up on a Saturday. Because of that, she supressed a yawn as she knocked on the door, hoping to get Willow rather than her parents, who knew her only as the girl who couldn't speak or Giles' niece. To her immense surprise and secret discomfort, it was Buffy, not Willow, who answered the door.

"Hi," Buffy said.

Emily quickly scribbled on the paper before holding it up for Buffy to see. _Voice is shot. Is Willow in?_

"Yeah, she's in the living room working on something," Buffy said. "Why?"

_Need to discuss lunar phases and a spell. How's Angel's soul spell coming along?_

"That's actually what she's working on now," Buffy said slowly, confusion rising in her eyes.

_I helped her with some stuff on Thursday. Figured you wouldn't want Uncle Rupert to know so I kept my mouth shut. :)_

Buffy cracked a smile at the joke and stepped aside, letting her in.

_I'm sorry about last night. I was already pretty pissed off because I had a personal vampire stalker who made me beat out the millenium. I owe a guy in L.A. twenty bucks now. I'm tempted to find a picture of twenty deer and hand it to him._

Buffy laughed aloud at the mental image as she showed Emily to the living room. "S'ok. I'm sure Angel didn't mind having his nose broken; I've done it a couple times myself," she said finally as Emily took a seat across from Willow, who looked up from chopping ingredients to see her.

"Hi, Em. What's up?"

_I need to take a look at your lunar chart and ask if you can spare a few things._

"The lunar chart is upstairs. Why?"

_If I tell you, promise not to tell Uncle Rupert?_

"Course I won't. You wouldn't tell him about this little spell, would you?" Willow asked, her eyes wide and trusting.

_Nah. I like pissing him off just as much as you do with his rightous no vampires attitude. I know for a fact that he dated one himself just after he dropped out of Oxford._

"Giles dropped out?" Buffy and Willow asked at the same time, their eyes going wide and their mouths popping open.

_When I get my voice back, I'll tell you all about it._

"That's what happens when you don't talk. You lose your voice and then you can't talk when you want to talk which makes you depressed so you don't want to talk anymore, and then nobody gets to hear what you have to say and that's really a tragedy and... I'm ranting again, aren't I?" Willow said, stopping herself and looking at Buffy, who nodded.

"So, what kind of magic are you working? A 'Stop-Spike-From-Stalking-You' spell?" Buffy asked.

_While I wouldn't mind if he didn't pop out at random intervals like he did last night, I rather like his company. I understand why you don't; he did try to kill you and your mom and Willow and Xander, but he's good for quite the conversation if you get him talking long enough. I particularly like the story he told last night on the way home about Woodstock._

"He does love to... you carried on a conversation?" Willow asked, looking shocked.

_I was trying to get him to go away. It didn't work._

"Nothing works on Spike. He would have followed you if you would have kept silent," Buffy said agreeably, although her feathers were slightly ruffled.

"How come you never tried it with us?" Willow asked, a little bit of hurt evident in her voice.

_That's what I'm here for. I have no idea why I up and started talking to him. I think Angel knows, but short of breaking his nose again I don't know how to get it out of him. He's a cryptic bugger, that's for sure._

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk like Giles?" Buffy asked.

_Loads of times._

"Introspective truth spell, right?" Willow asked, all business now that she knew what Emily was after.

Emily, not wanting to waste the paper, nodded. Willow stood, dumped her carefully measured and chopped ingredients into the solution containing the slowly dissolving herb capsules that had almost killed Emily the night before (inadvertantly) and headed upstairs. The smaller red head knew better than to follow Willow upstairs when she was on a mission, and elected to remain down stairs in the living room with Buffy, who was staring longingly at the cup in the corner. Emily scribbled furiously on her pad and then tapped the table, bringing Buffy's attention to the present.

_Is one day really that big of a waiting period? I know you guys have slept together before, so it's not like you're going to be nervous tomorrow. Wills and I will be at the ready in case everything goes screwy again, that way he can't summon anymore evil demons and you won't have to be ready to kill him again. It's not like your going into this for the first time._

"I know. I'm just worried that... well... that he won't want me anymore."

_Have you seen how he looks at you, Buffy? If he didn't want you, he probably would have let me tear your face off like I was planning on doing last night._

"You were going to tear my face off?"

_The last four years haven't exactly been pleasant. With you lot hounding me at every turn and me not trusting myself enough to even get a decent night's rest, I've had a rough few years._

"All the hounding paid off, though, didn't it?"

Emily glared at her from across the table; not nearly the glare she had given the Slayer the night before, but it was enough that Buffy knew what she meant. Willow chose that moment to return to the table, and Emily carefully tore the top sheet off her pad of legal paper.

"The spell needs to be done at the sun's last rays, which means 8:30 ish. I've got everything you need but graveyard dirt," Willow said, handing her a small bag filled with candles and ingredients.

_Thank's Wills. You'll be the first to know what I find out, ok?_

"I'll be the second. You should probably tell Spike first," Willow said offhandishly, her attention focussed on the brew on the coffee table, which had just reached the next stage of development and needed a few more ingredients added within thirty minutes.

Emily squeezed Buffy's shoulder reassuringly before heading out the door, knowing exactly where she needed to go.

Spike had never been an early riser. He hated getting up before sun set, and would often become violent when and if Buffy stormed in unannounced and very uninvited before dusk. So, when his door creaked slowly inward at about one in the afternoon, Spike found himself pitching up a storm.

"What in God's name are you doing here Slayer?" he howled from his coffin. "Can't the dead have some peace?"

When he got no answer, he started to get out of the coffin, fit to kick some ass, only to find a legal pad shoved in his face.

_I lost my voice because of you, you asshole, so you're going to help me with a little side project. And you're undead, so you don't get peace._

"Emily," Spike said, calming almost instantly. "What do you mean you lost your voice because of me?"

Emily, peering into the coffin at Spike's half naked form, opened her throat and tried to speak, earning a croaking noise that sounded almost like "asshole" for her trouble. Spike snorted before he grabbed his black t-shirt and pulled it down over his head. Emily punched him playfully in the shoulder before she sat down on the floor and opened the bag that Willow had given her. She pulled out three yellow, one light blue, one red, one brown, one dark blue, one white, three orange, one purple, and five black candles before arranging them appropriately. She placed the midnight blue candle to the north, the light blue candle to the east, the red to the south, and the brown to the west. The white, she placed in the center of what served as her altar before she placed the three yellow, three orange, five black and one purple candle in a circle around it, with the purple candle at the top dividing the yellow, black, and orange to represent the truth she was seeking. From within the bag, she pulled out a sealed bowl containing a crystal in a saltwater solution to keep it clean. Unwilling to possibly contaminate the crystal, Emily set it aside before pulling out a purple ribbon and a small empty tub and trowel.

She stood up and smiled before heading outside.

Spike, fascinated by the scene he'd just been shown, didn't move as he heard her footsteps leading away from the crypt. He hadn't expected her to come to him to do a spell, but now that he knew why she had barged in on him, he had a feeling he knew what kind of spell she was doing and why she went to him to do it.

As she came back inside with a containter full of dirt, Spike's thoughts were confirmed.

"You're doing some kind of truth spell, aren't you?" Spike asked.

Emily cocked an eyebrow, as if to ask how he knew.

"Giles said that the main use of graveyard dirt is for spells dealing with death or truth because death is the ultimate truth," Spike said softly with a shrug.

Emily raised both her eyebrows, making a mental note to ask about that. She set the tub of dirt down and picked up the bag. Feeling something else inside, she stuck her hand in to find a bottle that said "Drink Me" in bold, blue, Willow-With-A-Sharpie script. Not understanding completely why she was trusting a girl who had buggered her off her own rocker for four straight years, Emily knocked the bottle back, gagging at the taste but determined to finish it all. As she spat on the floor of the crypt, she felt her throat, which had been itchy all day with that woolen feeling, seize up and then release.

"Wow," she said softly.

"Willow?" Spike questioned.

"Who else?" Emily giggled.

"When do you have to do this spell, anyway?" he asked quietly, taking a seat next to the circle.

"Much, much later. I wanted to talk first."

"Why?"

"I hate using magic. It makes me feel like I just rolled around in a dumpster or something. I usually take ten or twelve boiling showers after, too. I got the water so hot once that I gave myself second degree burns," Emily said softly.

"How on earth did you manage that?" he asked, surprise evident in his features.

"I don't feel pain like normal people," she said slowly, choosing her words with a care she'd never before exhibited. She didn't want to hint at the most recent portion of her sorted past, but, as Spike reached toward her, she knew that he had figured as much.

Spike grabbed Emily's right arm in perfect silence, pulling it toward him and her down to the floor as he did so. The porcelain skin there was interlaced with deep, criss-crossing cuts long healed over. Some were simple, thin lines that ran straight across her wrist. One vertical cut ran down her arm, made with what appeared to be a common kitchen knife. Spike traced it quietly.

"Last year," Emily said simply. "Uncle Rupert was out and I cut my finger with the steak knife."

Spike found his fingers tracing that lattice work of cuts up her wrist, listening as Emily stopped to tell him about each one with the simplest explinations she could muster. The causes ranged from simple accidents, like cutting her finger or stubbing a toe, to full-scale incidents, much like Angelus' return the year before. Spike had almost forgotten that Emily had stood against Angelus, despite her silence, then. She had been the one to decipher the text that had been needed before Acaltha could be called, saving Angel's life. Angelus had thrown her up against the wall several times after she finished writing the translation, but somehow she'd managed to fight him off before running down the hall to the library and shoving it through to Willow. She'd then turned back bravely to face Angelus. The whole incident had left her with seven broken ribs, a compound fracture of the ulna, two cracked vertebra, and four broken toes, plus more bite scars on her neck than she wanted to think of because Angelus had kidnapped her and taken her back with him mere hours before his soul had been restored. He had delighted in torturing her, but she had refused to scream.

Coming upon one of the bite marks, Spike froze. He had been present during Angelus' torture of her, but had done nothing to prevent it.

"I'm-"

"Don't. As much as I hate to admit it, I sorta liked it," Emily said without blushing, a feat that she had once considered impossible.

Lightly, Spike pressed his lips to the bite mark, causing Emily to draw in a sharp breath. He looked up.

"You're lips are so cold," she whispered, moving closer to him. The index finger of her right hand traced his cold, stoic lips in silence, brushing across them with quiet confidence as she leaned up. He met her in the middle.

Many romance stories speak of electric jolts jumping through couples. The jolt that passed through Spike and Emily had nothing to do with electricity and everything to do with the magic that was in both of them. On the floor of that crypt, Spike and Emily unlocked more with a single kiss than many do in their entire lives.

"Why wouldn't you talk to anyone when you first came here?" Spike asked quietly, his arm around Emily. They had relocated to the couch because it was more comfortable and neither one felt like being away from the other.

"I was scared," she said softly, her fingers tracing absent circles on Spike's shirt covered chest. "In L.A., I screamed nonsense for three days straight before anyone came and found me. I didn't want to scare the only family I really have left."

"I doubt it would have scared him. You not speaking scared him more, actually. He was terrified about what had happened to you. The police assumed you would tell him. He's been flying blind all these years," he said softly.

"I know. He doesn't need to know what happened in that house."

"And what did happen in that house?"

Emily froze, her eyes filling with tears. She drew her nails across the cuts on her right wrist, breaking the scabs and causing a flash of pain to bring her back to reality. She, however, forgot that she was with a vampire.

"Don't do that, love," Spike said, inches from her neck. "You don't need it."

Emily, bipolar as she was, stood up and backed away, anger in her eyes. "You have no idea how much I need it," she spat. "You'll never have any idea how much I need it! _ You didn't see them die!_"

She drug her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots with sickening strength. Her hands went to her eyes, clawing at the flesh there as if to tear them out and stop the images in her mind. She was breaking, and Spike could sense it. Living in silence for so long had eaten her on the inside, leaving her a shell of her former self. She was angry at herself in many ways.

Spike launched himself at her, pinning her to the wall and tearing her hands away. Bloody claw marks appeared on her forehead as blue eyes pinned emerald. There was naught but pain in her eyes, so much that Spike wanted to take it upon himself, rather than leave it in her. Quietly, he licked her wounds tenderly before locking eyes with her again.

"Talk to me, love," he whispered huskily.

"They..." she began, her voice choked with tears. "They were after me. I w-was a little l-l-liberal with my powers and they f-figured me out. T-They tortured my mom and d-dad while I hid in the corner and tried not to cry. A-And then..."

Emily couldn't continue, but Spike didn't need her to. He knew the main way Jinn chose to off their enemies; it wasn't pleasant. He could understand how living with those images in your mind could drive you to insanity.

"I was there with the intention of giving everything up for them. I told myself that... if I could just get through high school; take off, dissappear; everything would be ok. I could go die in a nice, quiet hole somewhere, and then no one else would get hurt. And... and then... then Willow and Buffy start cornering me in the halls. They started asking questions, and I wouldn't answer. I couldn't answer because I was so scared that all that would come out of my mouth was gibberish and the kind of nonsense that sends people to the funny farm. I knew, last year, that Angelus could kill me. He would kill me if I gave him a good enough reason. He could sense I was powerful and he would have stayed away if I didn't start translating the text. I... I snuck into Ms. Calender's room and stole the book while they were holed up in the library. I-I didn't want her to die because of Angelus so I started translating. When he burst in and saw me writing down the last words..."

Spike pulled her close, remembering the scene. Angelus had roared like a lion on steroids and grabbed her by the collar.

"I was so sure he was going to break me in half when he picked me up. He was going to snap me in half like a twig and I couldn't even scream because it was so much like being back in that house. If I screamed, it was over."

"I never did figure out why he threw you instead of snapping your spine," Spike said softly, rocking them back and forth.

"I kicked him in the balls," Emily giggled. "It must have hurt; he didn't have a good pitch. That's how I was able to get down to the library in time to get the translation through to Willow."

"And then Angelus took you," Spike said softly.

"I kept thinking that if I could scream, he would kill me. That thought only made it harder. Some part of me didn't want to die. And... when Williow finished the spell... I was so close to just opening my mouth and screaming until my eyes burst. He just... looked at me... looked at me like he was confused and then everything was so clear to him," Emily said. She let out a hollow chuckle. "Did you know he apologizes almost every time he sees me? All this time and he doesn't realize that I know the difference between Angel and Angelus. Their auras are different, you see. Angel's is this kinda yellow-orange color; halfway between blood and gold. Angelus's is just black."

Spike kissed her on the forehead and looked outside. It had to have been hours since Emily started talking; her voice shook and she stuttered, taking up time. The sun was going down. Her watch went off, confirming the theory. She kissed him on the cheek and sat down in the center of the circle, lighting candles.

"Powers of the earth, I invoke thee. Lend me thy strength as I journey into the self. Powers of the air, I invoke thee. Lend me thy wisdom to see the truth within myself. Powers of the flame, I invoke thee. Give me the light to see through the darkness of my soul. Powers of the water, I invoke thee. Give me the calm to sort through all that would befuddle me within my soul. Power of the spirit, I invoke thee. Grant me entrance into the self!"

Spike was momentarily blinded by a brilliant rainbow of light. When it faded, Emily was staring into the distance, apparently comatose, and Giles stood in the door, holding Willow by the collar of her shirt. He let go, falling to his knees, and said a single word.

"Emily."


	4. LadyI Beseech Ye Hear My Words & Save Me

**Bloody hell! I've left you with... well... with nothing of worth while recognition. I apologize. Between school and work (plus this huge thing called a crush I've got on the boss man) I've been a busy little under paid, under appreciated, overworked intern... not. Under appreciated... more like over appreciated and occasionally over estimated. Overworked? Hah! not even close.**

**I'm rambling, aren't I?**

***smack***

Chapter Three- Lady, I Beseech Ye (Hear My Words and Save Me)

_Emily was floating in a sea of darkness. The power that coursed through her was greater than it should have been, and the truth was laid bare before her eyes. The Goddess sat at a table, silent as the grave and more beautiful than anything Emily had ever seen. Green eyes widened as she floated over to the table and landed in the chair across from the Lady, dressed in flowing gold. Her hair was deepest black and disappeared behind the table. Her eyes were pure silver, and held within them wisdom that was both timeless and violent. She looked like the Goddess she was._

_"Emily Gable," she said softly, her voice the sound of satin on skin._

_"My Lady," Emily breathed. Her voice, no longer scratchy from disuse, seemed to echo around in the dark. "Where are we?"_

_"In your mind. Right now, it is veiled to you because you are seeking one truth."_

_"Why are you here?"_

_"You are my most perfect creation; the first pure alchemist in a thousand years, the last alchemist on Earth, and one of the most powerful witches of your age. I have thrust great duties upon you, and taken things away. I believe that you deserve an explination for all of this."_

As Emily sat at the Goddess's table within her mind, Giles and Willow were attempting to wake her up. Willow, who had expressed concern when Emily hadn't shown up to perform the ritual under supervision, had gone to Giles's apartment. Giles hadn't known anything about his niece being able to do magic, let alone the fact that she was doing an introspective spell unattended. They had gone searching for her. As the sun went down, Willow thought back to Emily's earlier conversation, where the young woman had revealed that she had Spike as a stalker. Upon telling Giles her revelation of where Emily was, the librarian had blown up and ended up dragging her across town to Spike's crypt. Willow and Giles both knew that a flash of light at the end of a truth spell meant that a great truth was being revealed. Upon bursting in to see what was going on, Giles had collapsed at the sight of his comatose niece, now more daughter than anything.

"Emily, wake up!" Willow cried. "Please?"

_"They're calling me," Emily whispered._

_"I sent you to Sunnydale for a reason," the Goddess said softly. "You have a purpose beyond vengeance and malice. The witch Rosenburg; know you her?"_

_"Yes, my Lady. She's... a dear friend," Emily said, thinking back to all the times Willow had inadvertantly kept her from killing herself. It had been a nuisance at the time, but now she was grateful._

_"She will come into contact with forces she cannot control. She will come to you for guidance after this night and your demonstration of your power. You must help her. The rest of your path will be revealed in time."_

_"And Spike?"_

_"He has a loyal heart. You need a protector; one who can stop all those who would thwart my will. You also need a confident; someone who understands the situation and can help you," the Goddess said. Emily had the sensation that the table was fading. Part of her clung to it, hoping to remain locked to it. She was already floating again. "Go back! Go back to Willow and your friends."_

Emily sat up, gasping for breath and clutching her heart. The candles had been blown out and set aside as Giles and Willow tried to bring her back, so she knocked nothing over. Her eyes had been glazed over, but now recovered their focus.

"Good Goddess, Emily. What happened?" Giles asked, crushing her to his chest.

"I... I saw the Goddess," Emily whispered. "She explained everything; why mom and dad had to die, why I came to Sunnydale, even why..."

Emily trailed off, not sure she wanted her uncle to know that Spike had been assigned to protect her.

"Why what? Emily, why what?" Giles said softly.

"I need to talk to Spike. I'll tell you everything soon, but I have to talk to Spike."

"Emily Gable, I'm not-"

"Uncle, please?" she said softly, big green eyes wide and trusting.

Giles nodded, spared one glare for Spike that told him exactly what Giles would do to him if he hurt Emily, and walked out, taking Willow with him. Emily turned to Spike, filled with intensive knowledge she hadn't had before. Wordlessly, she stood and moved to Spike's crypt. In silence, she jumped up on top of the one beside it and stared at the wall for a moment. Spike waited patiently, knowing that when she was ready, she would tell him everything he needed to know.

"There was a reason behind my parents' deaths. While it is true that the demon gang was trying to get at me, there was an ulterior motive. I needed to be in Sunnydale. All my doubts, my need to prove myself; they were all tools to test me. There was a reason I didn't scream, no matter what Angelus did to me," Emily said softly. "I was supposed to live through it. The high pain tolerance, the alcohol tolerance; everything was designed to make me stronger. But I'll never be strong enough; not for what's out there. Not on my own."

"Alchemic Reaction Theory," Spike said softly.

"The theory that every powerful alchemist triggers a chain reaction that will eventually lead to them gaining a protector," Emily confirmed.

"You're not just a powerful alchemist, I warrant," Spike said softly, and she noticed for the first time that he was looking at her like she'd grown three heads.

"What?" Emily asked, shifting. A lock of hair fell in front of her face, bone white. While her eyes widened in shock, Spike rummaged around in his coffin and pulled a mirror from the bottom, handing it to her. Her whole head of once red (naturally black) hair was bone white save for a single rainbow streak down the left side. Her eyes, once pure emerald green, were now flecked with silver, sapphire, amethyst, amber, and ruby hues. Her lips, once pure pink and slightly thinned, were now ruby red and pouty. Her skin, which before was golden, was now alabaster pale and glowing slightly silver. She looked like the alchemists of yore, and she now understood why they had appeared as such. "No wonder Uncle Rupert was concerned."

"I was a bit more concerned than him, I imagine. I kept thinking you were gone and it was my fault," Spike said, turning away slightly.

"Why ever for?" Emily said, jumping down from the coffin and placing a hand on his cheek.

"I thought the fact that I'd drunk your blood would be enough to turn you. I thought you'd be undead, like me."

Emily closed her eyes and tried not to laugh. It was, after all, a well founded fear. Still, her lips turned up slightly as she rested her head against his silent chest. "Don't worry about it. Strange things happen when magic is involved."

"So I've noticed," Spike chuckled.

Three hours later found Emily seated across from her uncle and Willow with a cup of tea in her hand. She had pulled her now waist length white hair back into a pony tail, reveling in the fact that, although her face and hair were now drained completely of pigment, she still looked mostly like herself. She just... looked more vampire-ish now, which she found strangely hilarious.

"Let me start by saying that I'm not a vampire. You can press a cross to my forehead if you want, but I'm not one of the undead," she said finally.

"I knew that. I watched the pigment drain from your hair," Giles said matter-of-factly. "Moreover, you look more like an alchemist than a vampire anyway."

"As a matter of fact, I am an alchemist," Emily said.

She winced as the tea-cup went crashing down to the floor and Giles looked at her. She clapped her hands together and pressed them to a chunk of wood that she had brought down, planning to whittle for a while before her uncle came home. It turned into a perfect miniature of Giles himself.

"The demon gang that Buffy no doubt told you stormed the Bronze last night was looking for me. They have been, in fact, for five years; ever since my father helped me with an alchemic ritual designed to make a living, breathing philosopher's stone," she said softly. Spike, seated on the back of the couch, stiffened.

"A... a..."

"A living, breathing philosopher's stone," Emily repeated. "It worked, too. It's how I can successfully do alchemy on living things."

"That's why they killed Miranda," Giles whispered.

"No," Spike said. "They killed your sister because she refused to give up Emily."

"How did you know that?" Emily asked, turning to the vampire.

"That blinding flash of light did more than incapacitate me for a moment," Spike said softly. "Gave me all your memories of that night too, from the way you got into the house to the supposed nonsense you screamed for four days."

Emily blushed a violent crimson at the thought and Spike placed a calming hand on her shoulder. Giles, however, leapt up and went for a stake.

"Sit down!" Emily ordered, and there was a crack like lightning. Giles fell back into his seat as Emily calmed herself, harnessing her rage. She channeled it into something more productive, preforming a little inner alchemy to turn rage into calm. "Regardless of what you think of him, Spike's got a bigger role in this than you know. Do you remember Alchemic Reaction Theory?"

"The theory that all powerful alchemists have a protector?" Giles asked. "Your mother spoke of it long ago... it was our... our last conversation, if I remember correctly."

"That would make it just after dad and I performed the ritual," Emily said softly. "Sounds about right. The protector has to be powerful enough to protect the alchemist; something mystic like a demon or a werewolf."

"Or a vampire," Giles surmised, looking at Spike.

"He can't hurt me," Emily said softly. "The magiks won't allow it. They'll lash out and sap him dry without thinking twice."

"Hey, s'not like I'd try to anyway. You're the only one around here who makes any sense half the time anyway," Spike growled.

"I know," Emily said, "But Uncle Rupert has been known for acting like a mother bear with her cubs."

"You said you saw the Goddess," Giles said, redirecting the conversation so as to ignore Emily's comment.

"I did."

"Did she tell you your purpose?"

"The path starts with Willow," Emily said softly.

"Me?" the girl squeaked.

"You," Emily confirmed. "I imagine it centers on the fact that this _is_ the Hellmouth, as well. She didn't tell me exactly what was going to happen, but I have an idea."

"And what's that?"

"Willow here is a powerful witch," Emily said, "Powerful enough to attract the attention of the Goddess. I know from experience that magic is a powerfully addictive thing. S'why I feel like dirt every time I use it; my own personal fail-safe against falling back into the habit. As a matter of fact, I intend to take a boiling shower after this discussion is done because, despite the white hair, I still feel very, very nasty."

"Are you saying I'm going to become addicted?" Willow squeeked.

"Not if I have anything to say on the matter," Emily replied. "We're definitely going to have to teach you a thing or two about balance, however. And, I've got some exersizes given to me by a coven leader in LA so you can work on control. Also, spells in unison allow the witches to share the flow of magic, giving them greater power without tapping into the powers of the Goddess, which is what is so addicting about solo magic. Using magic for fighting, as well, is also another way to become addicted fast. While it's a good idea, I recommend not doing rituals and fighting back to back. Wait a few days, miss the moon phase if you have to. It'll come around again. Limit the amount of magic you use in a fight as well. If you can, keep another witch with you... once we find some, that is."

"What about you?" Willow asked. "You're powerful, that's for sure."

"Yeah, and I'm to the point now where talking about magic makes me feel like I just jumped in a sewer. It's a defense mechanism. I'll help out for now, but we definitely need to think about finding someone else to help," Emily said. "Someone with power levels similar to your own."

"Aren't yours-"

"Emily's power, presumably, comes from her already powerful gift with alchemy. It's a natural progression from alchemist to witch, and as such, they are the same. She'll probably be the only one to remain unaffected should any spells you attempt backfire," Giles said softly, his tone indicating that he was proud of Emily, something she'd never expected.

"That's another thing; we are going to work with developing your power (maybe with getting me over my magical aversion as well) but for the time being, any spells you do need to be done under supervision."

"The same goes for you," Giles said sternly.

"That was what Spike was for," Emily replied with narrowed eyes. "I wasn't expecting the Goddess herself to come into my head for a visit. If I had, I would have swept up a bit."

Giles couldn't help it. With Emily's dry wit back, he burst out laughing, an action soon mirrored by Willow, Spike, and Emily herself.

The next morning, the last Sunday of her high school career (Summer Session), found Emily up with the sun despite only having gone to bed five hours before. She drew her hair back into a ponytail again, vowing to have someone cut it soon, and headed out the door. Her throat wasn't scratchy, but she didn't want to wake her uncle so she left a note on the counter promising to be in by eleven and stating that she was going to Willow's for a pre-classes pep talk. Granted, that wasn't the exact reason why she was going over, but it was something she was going to have to look into now that she was talking again. She still hadn't told her uncle what she'd witnessed, and she knew there would be questions, but she had a feeling that a sleepless night would follow that discussion, meaning she'd like to put it off as long as possible. Without a sound, she stepped into the courtyard, only to see Spike under a blanket beneath a sewer grate.

"Where the devil do you think you're going?" Spike asked.

"To Willow's. The Ponce's spell will be ready soon and Wills and I have to be in the wings with the Kalderash ritual just in case Willow's spell backfires, which I don't believe it will, but you never know. Plus, as I said last night, she needs supervised. I probably do too, but right now I'm not that worried. If and when I get over my aversion to magic, then we'll be doing supervision of each other."

"I'll head in the back; let me in when you get there, right?"

He was gone before she could say anything.

The walk to Willow's was pleasant, even though the few people she saw on the streets stared at her odd hair color. Xander, just headed out the door to Buffy's, shouted a hello, which was returned, much to his shock. She smiled secretively and kept on her way, letting herself into Willow's house just as she was instructed. Spike, it seemed, made it first, as his blanket was over the window.

"I didn't think you'd beat me here, what with the sewer system being disgusting and all," Emily said. Willow jumped, turning to her. "Sorry. I'll try not to be a ghost next time."

"It's alright. I'm just not used to you talking. I used to jump when you never said anything, and now I'm going to jump when you do say something. What a mess," Willow said, starting to ramble before catching herself just in time.

"Don't worry about it," she said, taking a seat across the table. "So, we have the Ritual of Restoration and all the necessary items for it."

"That's set up upstairs in my room," Willow confirmed.

"Once this is done, we're giving it to Angel to swallow, even if we have to hold his nose," Emily said softly.

"He knows we're coming," the red-head confirmed.

"Anything I'm forgetting?"

"Not to my knowledge," Willow said with a smile. "Oh, I made us a picnic basket to take to Angel's, since we have to administer this very smelly brew and then watch him for an hour to make sure it takes and I'm fairly sure you haven't eaten yet since you never eat in the mornings. You know, that's why you're always grouchy. It's a proven fact that people who eat in the mornings are happier and are able to concentrate better and-"

"Willow, I get it," Emily laughed. "I'll start having a granola bar on my way out the door, alright?"

Willow nodded, smiling, and stood up. "I figured we'd head over now and then finish the potion over there, that way he knows what he's getting himself into."

"How are you to going to tell if he's lost his soul or not?" Spike asked suddenly.

"Alchemy, my friend. I've got a mirror in my handy-dandy bag that will allow me to look into the room. Fortunately, it also has a handy spell on it so I'll know when the sexual energy has been released and won't poke my head in at a very bad moment."

"Yeah... big creepy factor to that one," Willow said. "Not that I wouldn't mind a naked Angel... but a naked Angel and a naked Buffy together in the sack is not something I ever wish to see."

"That makes two of us," Emily agreed.

"Three," Spike interjected.

The three busted up into laughter, and it was obvious that they were soon to be permanent fixtures in each others lives.

At Angel's place, Emily plonked down on the black couch while Willow opened the picnic basket on the table in the newly added kitchen. Spike sulked in a corner, and Angel was preoccupied getting a pair of pants and a shirt on, seeing as Emily and Willow had burst in only to find him in only his boxers, a sight which caused both girls to blush and stammer uncontrollably as they backed from the room, eyes glued to him. Emily knew that Spike was jealous, but Willow _and_ Emily knew that it was a once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity to see Angel in such a state of undress and they both agreed that the image was forever burned into their minds. If Emily wasn't so sure that she was falling hard for Spike, she definitely would have picked Angel, should Buffy ever reject him.

Finally, when Willow beckoned her to the table, Emily stood. Instead of heading straight for the food, as her growling stomach demanded, Emily moved to Spike. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest.

"We've got something special, you and I," she whispered. "Something no one else has had for a thousand years. I'm not going to let that go easily. But just because you have a hold on my heart doesn't mean I'm blind. I'm going to look at everyone just to remind myself that what I've got is better than what anyone else has."

Spike pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Emily knew in her heart that it was the truth, more true than anything she'd ever said.

"Em, are you going to eat or what?" Willow called.

"We're coming, Red," Spike said, wrapping his arm around Emily's waist.

Halfway through the impormmptu breakfast, the master of the house finally appeared. He was dressed in a pair of simple sweats and a wife beater, something Emily had never seen him in. True to her word, she did look, and other than the angelic face and toned muscle she saw nothing in him for her. There was no spark besides physical attraction, something that held no value for one as devoted to the way of the Goddess as Emily. Despite the act of intercourse itself being a highly prized ritual, it was performed by the High Priest and High Priestess or two solitaries; in both cases, there was almost always an emotional tie and a want to do the rite with that specific person. It was something Emily valued, the seperation of love and sex and the need for both.

Under the table, Emily squeezed Spike's hand.

Angel, on the other hand, had not realized the changes in Emily in his groggy state. Looking at her now, he realized that he'd been insane for not seeing the stereotypical alchemist look, complete with now well defined scars both from the physical sacrifice and the torture he'd inflicted upon her the year before as Angelus. His eyes locked on one of the many bite marks, and Emily knew it.

"I'm-"

"Don't," Emily said softly. "You're forgiven. You've always been forgiven. It wasn't you, you great ponce, so sit down before I knock you down."

Angel smiled slightly and sat across from Spike.

"Alright; here's the plan," Emily said after they had successfully gotten Angel to drink the brew that smelled like horse manure and apparently tasted even worse, "We're going to sit here for an hour to make sure the potion takes effect. It'll change the color of your aura for a bit, so I'll know when it happens. Once that's working, Williow, me, and the lovely Captain Peroxide (at Spike's indignant shout, she shot him a glare) are going to high tail it out of here, leaving you and Buffy alone. I'm going to leave a mirror in the bedroom. It's a special mirror. When... when you've done the dirty deed, it'll tell me whether we need to activate plan B or not."

Emily flushed bright red at that statement, and Willow nearly fell off the couch from laughing so hard. The young alchemist glared at the witch, but it did nothing except make Willow laugh harder. Grudgingly, she let the witch go before turning back to Angel.

"Any questions?"

"Just one. How does that mirror thing work?"

"I'll tell you once I've peaked in. I'm not risking Angelus knowing how to disable it, even though that'd be a sure sign. The mirror I'm leaving is mine, but if it's disabled the one I have will break, and that was my mother's."

"Oh," Angel said, looking downcast.

"Don't worry. I'm 99.9% sure that it'll work. S'that .1% that's being cautious," Emily said softly.

"It's how you've lived so long in a world that either doesn't understand you or wants to keep you for itself," Angel said, looking up at her. "Right?"

"Right," Emily said, taken aback.

_Oh boy. Goddess, if he's part of the package, you'd better tell me now._


	5. Fuck A Duck

Chapter Four- Fuck A Duck

Emily sat directly across from Willow in silence, worrying her lower lip as she waited for the mirror to either break or give them the signal. She'd been tempted half a dozen times to look, just for lookings sake, but the image of Spike, burning with anger as he walked in on her drooling over the porno going on in her mirror, kept her at bay. Willow fidgeted nervously, looking down at the mirror every so often. They had long ago run out of cheesey horror films, and the only thing left to do was sit and wait. It was already eleven, and Emily had called Giles to tell him that she was spending the night with Willow and Buffy to work out the patrol schedule, the first outright lie she'd ever told her Uncle. He hadn't seemed convinced, but chalked it up to girls planning to do something and not getting to it because of pillow fights and movies. He seemed glad that she was bonding.

The two witches had passed the first few hours looking up glamour spells for Emily's hair. They had tried seven in all, to no avail. Her hair simply did not want to change color. She knew she was in for it from Cordelia, who already hated Emily on the principle that she hadn't spoken to Cordelia and she dressed like a goth, even though the goth kids didn't like her either because she was naturally depressed instead of just feigning it. They couldn't seem to get a laugh out of her, one way or another. Still, Emily had a feeling that her senior year would be better than the last three, or more specifically the last two when Giles had started siccing Willow and Buffy, and later Xander and Angel, on her. That thought firmly in mind, she drew a long pull from her giant coffee mug and felt a thread of energy fill her. Suddenly, the mirror flashed green, alerting the two witches. Willow stood at the ready with the translation as Emily opened the mirror's link. Angel's aura was it's usual blood-and-gold color, indicating he still had a soul, but that didn't mean anything. If she recalled correctly, Angel hadn't lost his soul until the pure bliss had faded. She stared at the mirror, watching as both began to stir.

"Still here?" Buffy asked, although her voice was fuzzy and sounded far away.

"Feels like I'm not going anywhere, too," Angel said, and he then looked to the mirror.

For the next three seconds, Emily felt time freeze and her heart clenched. Those big, brown, soulful eyes widened, first in recognition and then in pain. A Fyral demon came into view just on the edge of the mirror, and Buffy jumped to the ready. Angel, however, looked frozen in shock. As the three seconds it took Emily to register what she had to do passed, Buffy's stake began to quiver just slightly. Emily leapt up, leaving the mirror on the ground, shattered, behind her, and jumped out the window, startling Spike from his tree post as she took off toward the Bronze, where Angel's apartment was.

_Earth, give me strength, Air give me wisdom, Fire give me power, Water give me calm, Spirt, guide me!_

She felt as though the very wings of the phoenix were lended to her feet. Spike began to dissapear behind her as she reached Angel's apartment complex, vaulting the gates and landing perfectly before his door. She kicked it open in one deft move and leapt down the stairs in time to see the Fyral demon begin to advance on Angel after having knocked Buffy away. Seeing red as all her and Willow's hard work began to fade while the demon chanted, Emily charged head first toward the demon, attacking in one swift move. She drove a punch straight through the demons flesh and pulled the black handled dagger she had used to cut herself two nights ago from her pocket. In an instant, it was as long as a sword, and she beheaded him quickly with it, dropping to the floor as he turned to dust. Panting, she thanked the Goddess in her head and banished the powers she had used to arrive, leaving her feeling suddenly very faint. Without a word, she crawled to Buffy. Using the last vestiges of strength she had, she pressed her hands to the girl and took away her every wound before blacking out.

When Emily awoke, it was not to the all-too-familiar position she had the last time she had seen Angelus. Instead, it was to Angel's smiling face and the comfort of his bed. She'd only been out of commission for an hour, but it was enough time that Spike and Willow had made it to Angel's apartment. She sat up, and Angel's smile grew even bigger.

"Shouldn't you be a torture hungry demon by now?" Emily groaned.

"You stopped him before he could finish the chant. Apparently, my will-power's stronger than I thought," Angel said. Emily knew what he meant; he'd beaten Angelus back.

"Well, we know one thing for sure," she said, holding her head.

"What's that?"

"I'm never calling on elemental power in my head on the run again," she groaned.

"Willow said something to that effect," Angel said, and she heard him laugh for the first time ever. She looked up to glare, only to find him holding a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water.

"Thank Goddess, you're my hero," she joked, wrenching open the bottle and downing three pills in one go.

"I wouldn't say that. I'm pretty sure you're mine. You saved my soul and the love of my un-life in one fell swoop. Apparently, sixty more seconds would have landed her beyond my reach," Angel said softly.

"Heaven," Emily said with a smile, referring both to Buffy's destination and to her receeding headache.

"Fortunately for you, Giles is not here, so you're not going to get lectured by him. Willow, I believe, still has some pent up angst to unleash," Angel said.

"Well, she can wait until tomorrow. I'm tired and definitely not spending the night here," Emily said with a smile, throwing back the covers.

"Figured as much," Angel said with a smile. "Do you guys need a ride back to Willow's?"

"Nah," Emily replied non-chalantly. "We've got the Big Bad to proctect us little girls. You and Buffy celebrate some more. Just remember that we have to give you a new dose every three months. That means that you'll be needing to see us by November 27th so the dosing remains continual."

"Yes, Dr. Gable," Angel said with a mock salute.

Emily smacked him before heading, zombie-like, into the main rooms of the apartment. Spike, not Willow, was the first to jump her, picking her up off her feet and crushing her to his chest.

"How am I supposed to protect you if you run off into the blue without telling anyone where you're headed and when I finally do catch up to you I find you cold cocked and a bloody demon struggling to keep his soul?" Spike spilled, all the time raining kisses on her face. "Damn you and your impulsiveness."

"I didn't have any time to react. If I'd been aware that a Fyral demon was lurking in the wings, waiting for post-coital snuggle time to wrap up, I would have told you!" Emily said, but she hugged him back none the less. "Can we go back to Willow's place now, oh great protector?"

Spike growled playfully, but he put her down and headed out the door with her and Willow in tow none-the-less.

"What a pleasant way to start the school year?" Willow said softly. "A dead Fyral demon, an almost-dead alchemist, and both my best friends are in love with vampires."

"I didn't know Xander had a vampire girlfriend," Emily said.

"I was talking about you."

The next morning, Emily awoke promptly at six and groggily put on a hug pot of coffee for both herself and Willow. While Willow showered down, Emily downed three more Tylenol to stem her growing headache and kicked Spike so that he awoke just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp through Willow's curtains. He'd insisted on spending the night on the floor, despite Emily's offer of a warm bed. He claimed that, while he knew she was not a virgin, he didn't want either of them to be tempted. He had full intentions of taking things slowly and told her that she'd better be ready for a date Friday that didn't involve alcohol. Emily groaned at the thought.

Once Willow and Emily were out of the shower, they shouldered their packs and headed to school, where they knew Giles would probably be keeping an extra close eye on them, fearing a relapse. And, as soon as Emily entered the hallways, she wished desperately that they'd found a glamour that worked on her hair. Ms. Calender was the only one not surprised; even though the last time she'd seen Emily, they'd both been in the hospital following Angelus's almost fatal attack, she smiled softly at the girl. Giles had retained his romantic interest in the teacher following the reveal of Jenny's Kalderash heritage. Of course, Jenny's affection toward Emily was largely due to her selfless theft of the ritual book and the translation of the ancient Ritual of Restoration that removed Angelus's attentions from Jenny and to herself. Jenny, with Spike's help, was able to get free and find a place to hide. Spike managed to keep her quiet while Emily was being tortured, saying that if anyone could withstand Angelus, it was the young girl whose name he did not know and whose powers he could smell. In the post-resouling aftermath, Angel had carried both Emily and Jenny to the hospital, apologizing profusely and promising to sit out in direct sunlight the next morning. Emily had smacked him upside the head and Jenny had told him that it was nonsense; he was good and Angelus was evil, not the other way around.

"Nice hair, Emily," Jenny said softly, not expecting a response.

"Thanks, Ms. Calender," she replied softly, to the shock of everyone in the hall. No one had ever heard her speak before and they all expected her voice to be low and dangerous, not high and light. Jenny gaped as the two girls passed her on the way to their side-by side lockers.

"I think you've officially made the yearbook as most shocking event in the senior year," Willow whispered as Emily opened her locker and stowed her back-pack full of research supplies and stakes.

"That figures," she said, looking down at her schedule, almost identical to Willow's. Physics, Computer Sciences 3, English 4, Government, Calculus, and Drama were all classes she shared with Willow, along with lunch, which was the same for all of the Scoobies, thankfully. Eighth period Intro to Audio Design and ninth period Band, however, were not. She was going to have to work out at lunch every day whether there was a Scooby meeting or not. Fortunately, lunch was seventh period and they all saw Giles at one point or another before that, so it wasn't a big deal as to figuring that out. The big deal, however, came when she saw a girl with long dark hair stepping off the Greyhound bus at lunch. Her first six classes had passed without incident; she had the year's first good graces with the teachers and her first homework assignments of senior year. She and Willow agreed to meet up later to fight their way through their first physics and calculus assignments. It was then that the alchemist looked up to see her.

The name came to her easily, and her precognition flared within her. _Faith Lehane_ her mind whispered. She could see it all playing out; Faith's murder of the Deputy Mayor, her denial, the betrayal. And it all started with something so simple; alienation from the group. Closing her eyes, she stood in silence and headed toward the bus stop, where Faith was standing in silence. The young, apparently rebelious woman was looking around, taking in the tiny town, and didn't notice Emily until it was too late.

"Welcome to Sunnyhell," she said, causing Faith to jump and move back.

"What the fuck?" Faith asked. "You sneak up on people often?"

"It's a hobby," Emily said with a shrug. "You're Kendra's replacement."

"Who?"

"The Second Slayer; the one who came about because Blondie over there was dead," Emily said, temporarily relying on her wariness around Buffy to soothe Faith.

"How would you know about Slayers?" Faith asked.

"My mom was a Watcher. My uncle is a Watcher. My grandfather was a Watcher. My great-grandfather was a Watcher," Emily said, shrugging again. "Shit happens."

"Must suck; being the daughter of a Watcher," Faith said, although it was obvious by her tone of voice she didn't mean it.

"Nah. My mom was probably the most motherly person on the planet... between teaching me how to fight vampires and how to recognize demons that is."

"Sounds like you had a cool childhood," Faith said, hinting at annoyance and jealousy even though Emily, with her slightly empathetic ways, could sense curiousity below the surface.

She snorted roughly, shaking her head. "Being chased around Los Angeles by demons isn't what I'd call cool. Couldn't even go out of the house for a while."

"Wait; LA? How'd you end up on the Hellmouth?" Faith asked, showing her curiousity.

Emily paused, wishing she could skirt the question. "My parents died."

"Shit."

"A group of demons came looking for me. They tried to torture them to get information. The Jinn killed them before I could get out of my corner. I was too slow," she said simply. "Look, I'll take you to my Uncle. We'll get you set up."

In her mind, Emily watched the future she had seen fold. Kindness was the first step, always had been.

"Alright, let me get this straight; you're the daughter of Melinda Gable, one of the _most famous_ Watchers in history, you're a Seer, a witch, and the _last alchemist on the planet?_" Faith asked later, when the whole gang was sitting around the tables in the library.

"That pretty much sums it up," Emily said with a smile, putting down her sharpened stake and moving on to another one.

"Damn. No wonder there was a gang of demons after you," Faith said with a low whistle.

"So are we splitting patrols now that we have two Slayers?" Xander asked, putting down his own stake and picking up another.

"Seems like we'll cover more ground that way," Buffy said.

"Could be fun too," Emily commented, smiling.

"How so?" Giles asked.

"Well, if there's two patrols going on, and any vampires try to run, we could always give back up. I mean, Willow has one of those old enchanted mirrors. I've got the other one. We could keep in contact that way," Emily said with a smile.

"Enchanted mirror?" Buffy and Faith asked.

"Yeah. It's like a face to face telephone," Emily answered, although she didn't mention that it was the same mirror trick she'd used to see whether Angel was going to lose his soul or not.

"So... how are we dividing this, anyway?" Willow asked.

"You, Buffy, Angel, and Xander. Me, Faith, and Spike," Emily said simply, continuing to carve her stake.

"Wait a second, what if I don't want to spend the evening with Mr. Broody-Pants?" Xander said sharply.

"I'm not listening to you and Spike bicker all night, so get over it," Emily growled darkly.

"You talk for three days and suddenly you're giving orders," Xander hissed.

"Three days? I was only aware of two," Giles said.

Emily glared at Xander, who became intensly engrossed in sharpening his already sharp stake.

"Why have you only been talking for three days?" Faith asked.

The room fell silent, and suddenly all eyes were on Emily, who shifted uncomfortably. "Long story short; I didn't trust myself."

"Why?" Faith asked. "You seem like you're the life of this outfit. And, by the sound, you're a pretty powerful witch plus the living embodyment of the philosopher's stone. Sounds like you've got some serious powers which ought to give you a damned loud voice."

Giles continued to look at Emily along with Faith, despite the fact that everyone else was back to preparing despite having an ear on the conversation.

"I was... I was there... when my mom and dad were killed," Emily said softly. "The demons... tortured them for hours while I hid in the corner behind the chair and watched. I was thirteen, just three weeks out of a ritual that turned me into the ultimate alchemist. I thought I could protect them. I had wards and enchantments up, magic and alchemic. But I was so shocked by what they were doing that I couldn't get out of the corner. And then... they killed my dad and made my mom watch... I snapped. Something inside me... broke in two. I killed two of them, both witches who I later found out were possessed by demons. Innocent humans. And I did it with a smile on my face. I wanted them to suffer; to die like my father had. It was like... like when I was addicted to magic... the first time around... just this... this euphoria that was better than your first orgasm or the best rock concert you've ever been to. Just this immense power. And then... I had to hold my mom in my arms while she died because I used all my power to kill two possessed witches and didn't have enough left to save her. I screamed nonsense for four days after that. Random snatches of spells and rituals all centered around bringing them back. I didn't have any candles or equipment, but I felt them coming back shortly before they pulled me out. After that... I didn't trust myself to speak. Bringing people back from the dead is finniky business. One wrong move and they end up zombies. I wasn't experianced enough to bring them back, and now that I am, I don't want to. I know where they went. I know they're happy. It's enough. But... some part of me believed that if I even opened my mouth once I'd start the ritual to bring them back. Some part of me _knew_ that they would come after me if I opened my mouth. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I could barely breathe. That's a kind of fear you don't forget easily."

"What stopped it?' Faith asked softly, brown eyes wide and trusting.

"The knowledge that I have the power to do good while indulging in a little magic, a little alchemy, and a little violence," Emily said with a soft smile. "I can be me; Bad-Ass-Alchemist-With-A-Rebel-Attitude, and still be one of the good guys. Still fight the fight my mom would have wanted me to."

Emily returned to sharpening her stake, knowing that Faith wouldn't want her to see the tears in her eyes. Not yet, anyway.

"How much about me did you see in that vision of yours?" Faith asked as they walked through the cemetary. Spike had gone ahead to get a few things out of his crypt, telling both girls not to go far.

"Enough to know that your childhood was about as happy as the last five years of my life have been," Emily replied with her now characteristic soft smile. "Between an alcoholic mother and your friends running out on you all the time, your life has throughly sucked ass, my new-found friend."

"Damn straight," Faith laughed, but Emily could hear the sorrow behind it.

"You don't have to hide, you know," she said suddenly, her face very serious. "They're not going to run out on you because of what your life has been like. They're not going to alienate you for being different. You keep your distance, they will, but it's not like they're going to murder you because of the circumstances."

Faith snorted. "What are you; a social worker?"

"Look, it took me five years to figure out I had friends here. Five years to figure out that I could do something; something damned good. Don't let that be you, ok? Cause I bout pulled my hair out by the roots the other day because of all the shit eating me on the inside. You've had your pain, I've had mine. Does that make us kindred spirits; I dunno. Does it give me a little insight into what you're going through; damned right it does," Emily said sharply, turning to face her. "They're not going to think you're weak. They're not going to mollycoddle you. But you fly off the handle and hurt someone who doesn't deserve it they're going to come after you. They will find you. And they will kill you, given the chance."

"I won't-"

"Bullshit," Emily said. "Be straight with me for a second; you enjoy this. You love killing, don't you?"

Faith thought about denying it. But then, she thought back to the bus stop. It was obvious that, while Emily respected Buffy, she didn't necessarily like the Slayer. She'd been straight with her about that. She'd been straight with her about her parents, when she easily could have lied to save herself the pain. She'd been straight with her in the library, despite the obivous hurt she still harbored from the incident. She'd gotten the patrols split so Faith had the chance to get used to Sunnydale before being confronted by its resident Slayer squad. She'd even brought Spike, former Big Bad and now Protector of the Alchemist, along because he had dry wit and wasn't going alienate Faith. Emily had done everything possible to be open and honest with her and also to help her adjust to the new surroundings. The rouge Slayer couldn't possibly lie to such an honest soul, not when she'd been so forthcoming and five-by-five.

"Yeah, I do," Faith said softly.

"To put it in simple terms; addicted," Emily said, her tone equally soft. "I'm not going to say 'you can't patrol.' I'm not going to strip you of Slayer status and send you into the kingdom of the unknown. You can have a family here; granted, very, very dysfunctional, but still a family. However, you fly off the handle and kill a human and that's gone in an instant, especially if you do it on purpose. And trust me; that is not something you want on your conscience."

"You'd done it before?" Faith asked.

"I practically killed my own mother, Faith," Emily whispered. "That's something that weighs on you. It's something that keeps you up nights. It eats away at you until all that you have left is hate and malice. I've lived in that. For five years, I've squandered myself to the point where I would have willingly walked into my grave just to get that hate to go away. And that's exactly what happens when you kill someone. For a while, you're alright. You can keep going, keep killing even. But, eventually, those faces are going to haunt you. You're going wake up someday and realize that you took the lives of people with families; you've done the same thing to others that someone did to you."

There were tears rolling down Emily's face as well as Faith's when she finished. She'd never expected to admit something so deep and dark to anyone, especially not a stranger. But, really, what were they but two people who happened to be in almost exactly the same boat. Both were destined to fight things bigger and stronger than themselves. Both came from broken homes, even though Faith's had been broken long before Emily's. Both were addicted to violence. It wasn't something Emily had ever expected to find; a person who was like she had been five short years ago. She'd been rogue then, going out at night and killing vampires. That, eventually, led her to one vampire who wasn't hurting anyone. He had a soul. She'd killed him anyway. She'd killed three demons, all of them non-violent entities with families. She'd stripped someone of the very things stripped from her. It had led her to many sleepless nights and a long period of staying indoors after dark in her sophomore year.

"Alright, how do we keep me from killing innocent people?" Faith asked.

"Develop your reaction time. Think _before_ you stake, and do it quickly," Emily said softly. "Learn how to distinguish a position of surrender or defense from one of attack. Memorize friend and foe. If you're lucky, like me, you'll begin to be able to sense auras, and that'll give you an added advantage. Vampires without souls have black auras."

As soon as she finished saying that, she sensed a vampire creeping up behind her. As Faith drew her stake and opened her mouth, Emily whorled. _Fledgling. No soul. Hungry little bugger. Looks like he's going to attack._

"Looking for a bite?" Emily asked darkly.

The vampire caught sight of Faith and squeeked. "Slayer!"

Emily lunged forward, stake in hand, and stabbed him through the heart, turning him instantly to dust.

"That guy was retreating," Faith said softly.

"But, he was going to attack at first, and only backed off when he saw you were a Slayer," Emily said. "Ergo; bad vamp."

"So, soulless, only retreats upon the realization of a Slayer, creeps up with the intention of attacking all equate to bad vampire?" Faith summarized.

"Pretty much. Spike's the only one you have to watch out for. He likes sneaking up on people," Emily said, and at this she turned around and hit Spike in the shoulder, causing Faith to notice him for the first time. "See?"

"Ow!" Spike growled, although it was playful.

"Stop sneaking around!"


	6. Railroad Spike

Chapter Five- Railroad Spike (Redemption in the Crypt)

Faith was not enrolled in Sunnydale High School. So, Tuesday morning found her very, very bored. With nothing better to do than find out more about Emily (and maybe the rest of the Scoobies), she found herself headed toward Angel's apartment, where the group had said good-night the previous evening after a long and grueling patrol involving several demon fights and the successful use of their new herding tactic. Faith was exhausted, and wanted nothing better to do than go back to her motel room and sleep. Emily, however, had one more surprise in store for her. She'd made Faith pack her knapsack and pay for the motel room before dragging her back to Giles' house. Emily had gone upstairs, and, in a brilliant flash of light, produced a magically enlarged bedroom with one side divided from the other and a king-size feather bed. She promised that, tomorrow, she'd be sure to find a few gaming systems and some games, given that her post high-school plans concluded in attending UC Sunnydale, fighting vampires, becoming a sound tech, fighting vampires, working at the Bronze, and fighting vampires (she'd inherited seven million dollars from her mother and father, combined with the interest of five years and the will of three uncles, she was worth a grand total of fifteen million dollars). Giles had graciously welcomed Faith, chastised Emily for showing off, and then headed straight to bed. When Emily had gotten up in the morning, she'd awoken Faith, who was a light sleeper by trade. Although she apologized profusely, Faith denied any need. She had to suppress a chuckle at the memory of Emily trying to make noise for her uncle's sake as she headed down the stairs, having been told the night before that she was going to give Giles a heart attack. Faith could easily see that Emily was scared of losing Giles, and instantly knew that the librarian was the only family the alchemist had. The fact that she was willing to share Giles with Faith let the Slayer know that Emily, despite her exterior, gave a damn what happened to her.

It made Faith feel good to be cared about.

The morning had culminated in Giles cooking breakfast, forcing Emily to ride to school with him, and telling Faith that she could do whatever she liked so long as she didn't kill anyone. This was said jokingly, but Emily had given her a look that said she was holding her to it. So, with nothing else to do, Faith found herself in front of Angel's apartment, dressed in a sweater and loose jeans so she wasn't sending mixed signals. She had decided, after seeing Buffy and Angel kiss, that she didn't want to break up a good thing with her new friends. Xander, however, was looking more and more appealing. He was, unfortunately, a total geek, but he was a reliable geek, and very interested. There was also the fact that he seemed to genuinely care about her after just one night on patrol, where he had finally gotten his wish to join Faith's team despite Emily's mild threats and violent refusal. Spike, true to his promise prior to Xander's swapping teams for the night, did not start anything, and Xander was too busy talking to Faith to quipp at Spike. Faith had a feeling that Xander also cared about what Emily thought of him, and was willing to overlook the fact that Spike was a vampire so long as he was protecting her. She'd gotten him to admit by the end of the night that Spike was good for Emily, albeit he was grudging saying it out loud.

Faith hit the buzzer for Angel's apartment, toying with the GameBoy Advance that Emily had left on the counter along with three games and a note that told her she could use it if and when she got bored (she told her not to deny the fact that she got bored easily as well) and asked her to put it on to charge when she was done. It led Faith to the revelation that, after one night, Emily was already taking on the role of sister, tormentor, and coach for her.

The gate swung open, and Faith headed down to the broody vampire's basement apartment, where Angel opened the door in jeans and a wife beater, complete with silence as usual. He gestured to the couch, and brought in a pot of coffee and a cup.

"What's up?" Angel asked finally after the two had sat in companionable silence for over a half an hour.

"I wanted to know a little more about Emily. Since she's currently in," and Faith checked her watch, "English 4, I figured it'd be best to ask someone else."

"How do you know she's in English 4?"

"She left her schedule on her desk. Apparently, she failed to mention she's got eidetic memory," Faith said with a smile.

"She does that a lot," Angel said. "What do you want to know?"

"What was she like before she started talking?" Faith asked softly, her eyes focussed on the coffee in her cup.

"It was like looking into the eyes of an abused four year old. There was still innocence there; still joy and happiness, but it was almost completely consumed by hopelessness. It wasn't pretty," Angel said softly.

"You seem... a little wary around her. Why?"

"I killed a Gypsy girl... a long time ago. Her clan gave me a soul. It's why... how does Willow put it... why I'm so 'broody,'" Angel said, grinning as he said it. "But... Angelus... me before the soul... He's a monster. He kills for fun. The curse... my soul... it used to be that it could be lifted in a moment of pure bliss."

"I'm guessing sex," Faith said. "Specifically sex with Buffy."

"That would be right on target," Angel said, not needing to know how she knew.

"What does that have to do with Emily?"

"When Angelus... came back... he had no intentions of being re-ensouled. The computer teacher, Ms. Calender, she's a member of the clan of Gypsies who gave me a soul. When she found the ritual book with the Restoration Rite in it, Angelus kidnapped her so she couldn't translate it. Emily picked up the threads. She did it to save Jenny. She drew Angeuls's attention so Spike could let her loose and hide her. Afterward, when she got the translation to Willow, she turned to hold him off. He kidnapped her too. Brought her back to the mansion and tortured her. He wanted her to scream before he killed her because he knew she never talked," Angel said softly. "Willow... she gave me my soul back. It took a few minutes... but then I remembered what I had done to her. The pain I put her through. I bit her... I mutilated her body... I even... I even raped her."

Angel looked up at Faith, anger and self-loathing painted in his eyes.

"No, you didn't," Faith said softly. "One night tells me that. You don't have it in you to hurt someone like Emily. Rapists, murderers, child molesters; hell yes. Emily... never. It was Angelus."

The anger faded, but Faith knew it would be awhile before Angel felt redeemed. She knew it would be a while before she felt redeemed too.

"She's always... helping out. When Buffy's busy with something for Giles, she gets the blood money and does my shopping for me. She used to come and sit with me... before Giles and Buffy finally let her help out. Those figurines over there," Angel said, pointing to the shelf on the wall behind him, "She made those. She'd bring little blocks of wood with her and turn them into figurines. She'd spread out a towel and paint them, right here. And I'd draw her while she did it. I've probably got a dozen charcoal and paint portraits of her drawing transmutation circles and making figurines. I never knew who she was; I had to leave the hospital before sunrise and Giles and the others came during the day because it was summer. I'd come back at night and they'd be on patrol. It wasn't until four days ago that I figured it out."

"When she started talking again?"

"Yeah. She was at the Bronze with Spike. She'd... cut herself or something because I could smell the blood. It smelled like alchemy and strength... but also like Giles. Not enough like Giles to be his daughter, so she had to be his niece. I got the whole story from Buffy; how her parents were dead, how she wouldn't speak, how Giles begged them to try and get her to talk."

"She said she was scared she'd try to bring them back to life. She said she felt them coming back before she was taken out of the house," Faith said softly.

"That makes sense," Angel said softly.

"What else do you know?" Faith asked.

"Aside from the fact that she's a talented witch with a good heart and a lot of experience on her shoulders, not much. She's talking Willow through the process of using mass amounts of magic without becoming addicted, she's trying to get over her self-induced aversion to magic, she's borderline alcoholic and could out-drink an Irishman over and under the table, and she's coaching you on dealing with your addiction to violence thing," Angel said, "although I'll admit I got that one from Spike who got it because he's halfways inside her head because of the bond they have as protector and protectee. If you want more, I'd recommend going to Spike."

Faith nodded silently and stared at the figurines for a bit while she finished her coffee. She set the cup down on the tray and thanked him before heading out the door, promising to be back tomorrow around the same time so neither of them would be bored. Angel smiled and told her he was looking forward to it before she walked out the door and headed to the cemetary. She'd gone with Emily to say goodnight to Spike as well, agreeing to walk the alchemist home at Spike's request. She knew that he cared a great deal for her, and could see the love reciprocated from Emily. Without a word, Faith slipped inside his crypt.

"Slayer! I'm warning you now!"

"How'd you know it was me?" Faith asked, surprised.

"I forgot; there's two of you now. What do you want?" Spike said, calming instantly.

"A little of your time, if it's not too much trouble," Faith replied, hopping up on the unoccupied (at least by the undead) casket.

"Hmmm, I think I can spare a few hours. Em's agonizing over some stupid class called calculus, so I can't sleep anyway," Spike replied, sitting up.

"Haven't you found a way to block the connection?" Faith asked. "I'm sure she's safe with Buffy and Giles around."

"I know, but... I like being in her head, hearing mundane thoughts and jumping in if she starts thinking about her parents darkly. I let it go last night because she was telling you about them, but when she gets going in her head she starts to worry me," Spike said softly. "Besides, I sleep when she sleeps, so it's not like I don't get any rest at all. And during the Scooby sessions I sleep too because she's too focussed to think about 'em."

"Why don't you like her thinking about them? She's gotta deal with it sometime," Faith said.

"Yeah, I know, but she gets all... suicidal-ish thinking about them the way she is. When she's talking about them, it's not so bad, but when she thinks, she gets into how if she'd been a little quicker or a little more in control then her mom would still be alive. She hasn't gotten used to the fact that she knows why they were killed."

Spike stopped suddenly, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"What do you mean; she knows why?" Faith asked, leaning forward.

"She did this introspective truth spell, right? Turned her all comatose for an hour and a half. And, as she's laying there, eyes glazed over and staring off a thousand miles in the distance, her hair starts draining of color and everything. First it drained of the unnatural color she had in it, which was red, and then it drained of her natural color, which was black."

"That's unusual; she's got green eyes," Faith said.

"With Emily, I'm finding that unusual is generally usual," Spike said fondly. "Anyway, her skin goes next. In fifteen minutes it goes from golden brown to alabaster pale. And then, it's like all the blood in her goes to her lips. And then, blamo! She wakes up. Apparently, the Goddess was inside her head and told her what the plan was. Told her that her parents were killed to facilitate her journey to Sunnydale and because the demons were going to interfere with the Goddess's plans to close the Hellmouth. Said they were in Summerland (which is the Wiccan version of paradise) and told her not to worry; when the time was right, she'd be with them," Spike said softly.

"You think you'll go with her? To Summerland or wherever?" Faith asked.

"I dunno. Probably not. I'm not exactly the nicest bloke ever. Tortured my fair share of people, you know. A right cold monster before I found Em," Spike said warmly.

"What's she told you? About her life in LA?"

"Not much. I know that she blames herself for their deaths, claiming that she was a 'little liberal with her powers.' I know that she had to watch them die. She didn't want to scare Giles when she first got here so she kept her mouth shut. Her previous post-Sunnydale High plans were to go find a hole to die in. She started translating the Kalderash text so that she could save Jenny for Giles and so Angelus would kill her. She's an exteremely powerful witch. She's addicted to pain. She used to be addicted to magic. Combined with what she said last night, I'd say she's had a rough five years."

"She's pretty close to Willow but not to Buffy or Xander," Faith observed.

"Willow attacked her head on, determined to get her to talk. She'd go on full out, hour long rants and complete stories of how she had the hugest crush on Xander, from what I've been told. Emily likened her to a saviour; claims that more than once Willow kept her from ending it all. Buffy only started talking to her to help Giles. That, and Buffy refused to let her help for a while last year. It was only after Angelus came back that Buffy acknowledged her usefulness; Emily was able to ward Angelus off while Buffy got her friends out. Provided him with quite a bit of entertainment, she did. Kept him running around the school for hours trying to find her before she finally slipped out the back."

"Damn. The way Angel talks, that's damned hard to do."

"Angelus is a focussed bastard," Spike confirmed. "When he wants to kill someone, there's nothing that'll stop him besides his own bloody mouth. He's got massive insecurities because of his dear old dad, so he feels the need to gloat to his victims. Talks 'em to death before he actually kills 'em, that's for sure."

"How'd she do it?" Faith asked.

"She kept leaving a blood trail for Angelus to follow. Once she got him on the opposite end of the school from the library and its back hatch, she healed up her cuts and snuck right past him. Damn near sprinted out of the school. She was determined to decipher the ritual so that Angelus would kill her."

"Kill her?" Faith asked.

"Wasn't even concerned with graduatin'. She seems to think that the demons that get wind of her being the last alchemist will make a bee-line for Giles. She doesn't seem to realize him being under the Slayer's good graces keeps him protected."

"If she wanted to die, why didn't she scream for him?" Faith asked softly, confused.

"She's too proud to go out like that, whether she admits it or not. That, and I imagine only part of her wanted to die. The rest was determined to live. Loads of vampires could have killed her over the years. She could have let them. Instead, she fought them. Killed most of 'em, too. The ones she didn't kill either ran off or got staked by the Slayer or one of the other Scoobies."

"I don't think I've ever heard of someone with that kind of power. She's almost like a mini-Slayer from the sound. I mean, standing up to Angelus took balls. She fought him off, too, which was something Buffy couldn't do. Even hindered by her love for Angel, it should have been simple to beat him back. Would have been if he was an ordinary vampire. She cut herself open in the middle of the night, right across from a cemetary. She fried a gang of demons that had been after her for years alive. She even beat you to Angel's place, right?"

"Yeah," Spike said softly.

"What about her and Xander?"

"Xander's the thorn in her side," Spike said. "He's been abused and neglected his whole life and there isn't a thing Em can do about it. It pisses her off. She doesn't have the room or the patience to take him in, and she knows that they'd probably demand custody of him. She's come damned close to killing them both before, even though he probably doesn't know it. I think she's got some sort of plan in her head that she won't let me near. Every time she starts thinking about Xander, the link goes dark. When she stops, I can get back in. It's also probably the root cause of her distance, too. She doesn't want to get too close so the police don't suspect anything."

"Huh," Faith said. "She's sounding more and more like a social worker."

"She kinda is," Spike said softly. "Just don't tell her I said that. She doesn't want to be the poster child for the tortured, but she doesn't have the heart to let anyone live like that."

"Still sounds like a social worker."

"What about you, then? Where'd you come from before you showed up in Sunnyhell and befriended the Sunnydale Slayer/Slayer Assistant/Vampire social worker?" Spike asked.

"Boston," Faith said simply.

"Bean-town?" Spike snorted. "I've sucked more assholes dry there than anywhere else in the world."

"Sounds like the place," Faith replied with a nostalgic smile.

"I'm guessing your home life wasn't so great either," Spike said.

"My mom had a problem with alcohol; she couldn't stop drinking it."

"Sounds like your mom and Emily have one thing in common."

"She's not an alchy."

"No, but she's damned close. I don't know how many times this summer I had to follow her while she was high on a Vicodin-and-Vodka cocktail," Spike said. "Her way of drowing her sorrows, I guess. She goes the whole school year without it because she works till she drops. Falls asleep in chairs or on the floor with her homework spread around her. Wakes up with a scream three quarters of the way out of her throat. I imagine the only reason she didn't scream this morning was because she caught herself."

"Nightmares?" Faith asked.

"I've fought Jinn before. Even if, by some miracle, that little thirteen year old had managed to control her new power enough to save her mother, the mother would have had permenant mental scars from what they did to her. She never would have been the same," Spike said softly. "Emily had to watch that. At thirteen, she'd seen more than most war veterans. She'd lived through one hell of a dangerous ritual. She'd tricked her father into helping her knowing that by the time he knew what was happening, it would be too late to turn back. None of that could have prepared her for what Jinn do to enemies when they don't get what they want. I imagine they'll be picking up pieces of her father for years in that house."

"Ew," Faith said. "Did they... implode him or something?"

"Jinn have a variety of torture devices designed to tear you apart into little pieces. He was probably barely recognizable and only identifiable by dental records," Spike growled. "And she had to sit and watch."

"Why didn't she run?" Faith asked.

"Her whole plan was to trade her life for theirs. She hid in the house, hoping her parents would go out looking for her. They were headed out the door when they came in, all six of them. When they hit her mom, she froze."

"How do you know all this?" Faith asked. "From the way it looked last night, she'd never even remotely mentioned this shit."

"She hasn't. I'm halfway inside her head, remember? That, and her little flash of light from her spell copied her memories or summat like that. It was like I was watching, unable to do anything," Spike said softly. "Most helpless I've ever felt in my life or my un-life."

"If she could bring them back, do you think she would?" Faith asked.

"Now, no. A few weeks ago, she would have done it in a heartbeat."

Spike suddenly appeared distracted. He looked off toward the corner of the crypt, his head cocked as if he were listening. After several seconds of silence, he jumped up, a growl of pain and despair instantly on his face.

"What is it?"

"Someone's after Em. And I can't go outside."


	7. When It Raynes, It Pours

_**So, if you're reading this, you need to go back to Fuck A Duck and re-read from there. I skipped a chapter in my uploading because they're labeled differently on than on my flash drive. For this, I apologize. I probably lost a couple readers in the confusion, too, but that's the way it goes. Sorry about that, and I owe you all a free chapter.**_

Chapter Six- When It Raynes, it Pours (Allegiances)

Faith sprang up from her position, shoving Spike back down into the coffin.

"Stay here," she said, and she rushed out of the crypt. Without a word, she sprinted toward the school. A glance at her watch told her that she was in the library, as it was just after school. She had been told earlier to come in when she could pry herself away from whatever it was she had been doing, which caused Emily to wink behind her uncle's back. The thought of Emily's sweet face, contorted in pain, made Faith pour on the speed. She burst into the library, skidding to a stop before Giles and an unidentified man. Giles was standing protectively in front of Emily and the man was trying to get by. They'd been backed into corner.

Emily's eyes found Faith's, and the Slayer could sense innate fear there. The rest of the Scoobies had ten minutes before they had to be in the library, meaning Buffy wouldn't be around for a few.

"Is it safe to assume this isn't a tea party?" Faith asked, drawing the man's attention.

Giles's eyes snapped to hers, a plan there. Faith gave an imperceptible nod and turned her attention back to him.

"And what's your name?" he asked, and Faith was sure he'd meant to be seductive. He was coming off as sleazy.

"Does it really matter?" Faith asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Maybe it does."

From behind him, Giles shook his head, as if to tell her not to say her name aloud.

"Hope," Faith said softly. "What's yours?"

"Ethan. Ethan Rayne," he said with a cheeky smile.

Faster than anyone's eye but Emily's could follow, Faith drew back her fist and punched Ethan square in the face. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his broken nose, and Faith moved to protect Emily. As though she were a marionette with the strings cut, Emily collapsed as soon as Faith was within the distance of being able to catch her. She looked up, rainbow green eyes meeting molten-chocolate brown, and those eyes told Faith everything she needed to know about what was about to go down. That, combined with the knife that rested beside Ethan's leg.

Giles drew Ethan up, a scowl firmly on his face.

"There was a time when you would have sacrificed the kid for power, even though she was family, Ripper," Ethan said darkly as Giles threw him out of the library. Buffy, Willow, and Xander stopped short, curious as to what such a bloody mess was doing being thrown out of the library. Giles beckoned for them to hurry, something which usually indicated he was agitated.

Inside the library, Emily knelt on the ground with Faith's arms around her. She wasn't crying; she kept telling herself he wasn't worth it. But, the knowledge of what Ethan was willing to do to get her power was enough to send her into almost total recall, an action which was followed by loud cursing in the form of a British accent and a blanket covered Spike rushing into the library. Spike, once inside, dropped the blanket and rushed to Emily, wrapping his arms around both Faith and his charge in silence. He kissed her forehead, and the trio was soon a quartet as Willow dove on. Xander and Buffy kept their distance, electing to figure out what was going on from Giles instead. The pile, however, was silent as Emily began to speak.

"We got out of band early today," Emily said softly. "I knew there was a Scooby meeting tonight, so I headed over here, thinking I could get a jump on stake sharpening and helping Uncle Rupert with his Holy Water project... you know, where he makes these little ampules of Holy Water that we can throw at vampires and demons. Only... when I got in, Uncle Rupert wasn't here. So... I went poking around the shelves in the back of the library, hoping to find something on demonic aggression to read... and he was there."

Faith tightened her hold. Some small part of her knew that whatever Ethan had been planning on doing, it had not been pleasant. With Emily's power growing, it was possible that she'd entered Ethan's mind. Perhaps even seen how long he'd been planning to come after her and what he knew.

"Uncle Rupert talked about him once... only once. I was little... and I overheard Daddy asking him if he felt safe using magic anymore after what he and his friends did. He mentioned Ethan... and Uncle Rupert snapped at him not to say his name aloud. He then proceeded to say he was very confident in his own magical skills and his resistance to the black arts. It was... when Dad first told him about the figurines that magically popped up and the alchemy books that went missing from his study. I... I had forgotten all about his reaction... I let my guard down," Emily said softly.

"What did he do?" Faith asked darkly, malice in her voice.

"He didn't get the chance to do anything. It... it was what he had planned... the... the brainwashing... the hypnotism... but... he called me Emily Giles instead of Emily Gable," she whispered. "It was the same thing the demon gang wanted to do... only... his plan was more violent. Something about... helping the Mayor ascend."

"Good God," Giles said, and Emily jumped, having not known he was so close. "Ascension. How do you even-"

"That's not important," Emily snapped, finally reverting back from scared thirteen year old to angry eighteen year old. The brief moment of fear Faith had seen was enough to tell her that Emily was going to have some issues if she didn't accept the fact that the events of her parents' murder were going to be with her forever. However, she knew that she was the only one who could possibly be in a position to know anything about what Emily was going through, having lost her own mother-figure to demons before coming to Sunnydale. "The point is I know enough now that Mayor Wilkins is going to fuck us up the ass if we don't do something about it."

Giles looked taken aback at Emily's language, but Xander, Buffy, Willow, and Spike remained unsurprised.

"So what do we do?" Faith asked.

"Try to stop him at every turn. If that fails, we kill the demon he becomes."

That night found Faith, Emily, Spike, and Xander again roaming the cemetery, much to the char-gin of Giles and the surprise of Buffy, who had not been expecting the emotional turmoil of being sought after by one of her uncle's friends to fade easily. She found herself once again walking with Faith, as Spike and Xander were combing the opposite edge of the cemetery and herding vampires toward them.

"What was his master plan?" Faith asked, breaking the comfortable silence to broach a question she'd been wondering about since Emily's outburst of language that Giles found offensive from his niece.

"Rape me. Break my spirit. Then stab me and drink my blood," Emily said non-nonchalantly.

"You freaked out about the rape," Faith surmised.

"What makes you say that?"

"I talked to Angel earlier. Asked him why he was so skittish around you. He told me about what happened before summer started, when he was Angelus," Faith said. "Talked to Spike, too. Decided that if you two ever find a way to have kids, I want to be the official godmother."

"How about we go with aunt?" Emily said with a smile.

"You're a teenage girl; a rebel with a heart and a conscience. Yet you avoid the subject of sex like the plague," Faith said, turning to her. "You're scared. Admit it."

"I'm... I'm terrified," Emily's said softly. "The only time I've ever had any kind of intimate relations with a vampire I ended up staking him when he tried to turn me. Then, four years later, I get raped by one. And now... my protector, assigned by the Goddess, is a vampire. A vampire I happen to be falling head over heels for, but am scared to be around because I know what a vampire without a soul is capable of. I know he won't... Know he _can't_, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"Have you talked to him? Told him any of this?" Faith asked as they resumed walking.

"Haven't had much time, what with the whole patrol/homework/being hunted down by demons thing," Emily said softly. "I plan on it, though. This weekend. Just me, him, and my insecurities about sleeping with a vampire."

"Insecurities about what?" asked the voice of Xander, startling both Faith and Emily into turning, stakes drawn. Faith backed down, assessing (as Emily had been coaching her in the limited time she had spent with her after the attack on Scooby Central) that he was friend quickly. Emily, however, kept hers up, her eyes a thousand yards away.

"Spike's herding a Fyral demon toward us. Let's move!"

"What was it like in LA?" Faith asked later that night, as Emily lay in her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin and a long bandage on her arm from where a Chaos demon had caught her earlier. Giles had informed her that she would be sitting in on Slayer training if she insisted on continuing patrols.

"A lot busier," Emily said softly. "A lot more dangerous, too. There're a lot of demons in LA. Most of them are alright. Some of them are looking for power. Occasionally, though, you find a real nasty one that actually wants to end the world. And then you've got to kill it."

"Ok, question rephrase; what was normal life like in LA," Faith laughed.

"A lot quieter. We lived in this little two story job just outside city limits. Kids on the street laughing and playing, chalk drawings for miles; land of the half naked Barbies and monumentally disfigured GI Joes that had been left in the sun too long. It was like living in a dream land. Until I turned six. On my sixth birthday, Mom and Dad had Uncle Rupert do a performance... the Beatles, the Who, Lynyrd Skynrd, all that good stuff. When I was done clapping after he did _Freebird_ with Mom on piano, I set my hands down on the table. It started with square corners. On my sixth birthday, the square corners rounded off and a wooden rose showed up. I'd accidentally set my hands on a transmutation circle Dad drew for making mulch-substance roses. No one noticed and I hid it in my room afterward. That was when alchemy books started disappearing from Dad's study."

"Why did your dad call Giles?" Faith said.

"We'd got a visit from one of Mr. Rayne's... associates," Emily said softly. "He was looking for Uncle Rupert; started with my mother. Dad demanded to know what the hell was going on. That was when they started discussing the missing alchemy books and the new demons that were being drawn toward our neighborhood. He said he screened everyone in a five block radius who had access to his study, but to no avail. That was when Uncle Rupert asked if he'd screened me."

"Why?" Faith asked, genuinely curious. She stepped out from behind the partition and sat on the edge of Emily's bed.

"I think he knew, in his heart. All this time, I think he knew what I was doing, where I was going. I think he knew why I would come back exhausted, covered in dirt and grime; why I would take hour long boiling hot showers; why I always kept so quiet. I think he sensed this... power in me."

"He was just to scared he was right," Faith surmised.

"Probably," Emily said. "He's never been able to let go of the little eleven year old girl who used to wear her hair up in a pony tail and flounce out the door with a crack of bubble gum and a call of 'I'm going to Amy's. Be back later!'"

Outside, Giles closed his eyes, remembering the little girl who had worn pink skirts and frilly dresses while practicing ju-jitsu and karate with her father. The little girl who had once sat with him one night, listening to stories about demons and vampires, asking cognitive questions. The little girl who had gone on to become a deeply disturbed young woman who had witnessed the deaths of her parents at the hands of some of the most violent demons imaginable. Melinda Giles's little tyrant who marched around the house, popping her gum and demanding to learn more about the occult, was gone. What was left was Emily Gable, a deeply disturbed young woman who had apparently once suffered an addiction to magic under Giles's very nose. A girl who was the most powerful alchemist ever recorded, judging by the suspicions that had just been confirmed. Indeed, at her sixth birthday party Giles had felt the wave of power roll off her when she made the rose.

"How'd he get the name Ripper, anyway? Giles doesn't strike me as a Ripper," Faith asked softly.

"I dunno, actually. I know he got it after he dropped out of Oxford."

"Wait; Giles dropped out?"

"Yup. Got pissed off that his destiny was to become a Watcher. Said something to the effect that he had no desire to watch over a bloody bitch killing vampires and ran off to London. He fell in with a bad crowd and they did black magic and shit; stuff I do for fun, they did for profit or pleasure."

"Stuff you do for fun?" Faith asked, although there was a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Yeah. To practice necromancy... back when I was an addict... I'd make zombies and then find effective methods of killing them. I've got a journal full of research around here somewhere," Emily said.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Meh, it's hinky. Makes you feel kinda creepy the first time you do it, watching the dead rise from the grave and all," Emily said.

"Did you ever resurrect someone for real?" Faith asked.

"Once. My vampire friend in LA hit a little girl down the street with his car. Killed her on impact. I healed her up and used alchemy to bring her back. It was easier to bring her soul back to her body than to make the body itself, something I've only ever read about."

"But as the philosopher's stone you can do shit like that, right?" Faith asked.

"I can, but I won't," Emily said, sensing where Faith was headed.

"Why?"

"Because that little girl was nine when we hit her. Three years later, she grabbed a butcher's knife and killed her whole family before killing herself. She'd gone to heaven and couldn't understand why it'd been wrenched from her. I know what you're thinking and she's in paradise now. Stripping that from someone is worse torture than having them dead," Emily said firmly, grabbing Faith's shoulder lightly. "When... when I felt them start to come back, I thought... everything would be the same. Three years ago, I found out what she did to her family. There's no way I'd do that to anyone else. Never."

Giles felt it was his time to intervene. Feigning a yawn, he opened the door and blearily poked his head into the door. "It's four in the morning and you have school tomorrow," he said simply, his voice coming out sounding tired. He shambled convincingly back to his room, fell into his bed, and slept no more.

"What on Earth has gotten into Giles and Emily today?" Xander asked, looking at the aforementioned alchemist, who was seated on the grass all by her lonesome. She was silent, staring off into the distance. Her traditional tuna salad sandwich, butterscotch pudding, cool ranch Doritos bag, and bottle of orange juice remained untouched. They'd gone with her to retrieve her lunch, where she had still been silent. Giles, stoic, had handed it to her gruffly, suppressed a yawn, and shooed them out.

"Em and I got to talking last night, so it's no big surprise she's tired," Faith said, startling Buffy, Xander, and Willow. "As for Giles, I have a feeling he overheard the subject of our discussion."

"Which was?" Willow asked softly.

"Her life in LA. She seems to be under the impression Giles can't let go of little, innocent Emily," Faith said, plonking down next to the trio. "I, for one, agree with her."

"That shouldn't be enough to keep him up, though," Xander said. "He slept like a rock the night before Buffy was taking on the Master; didn't even phase him."

"We were also talking about her days as a magic addict and how she used to intentionally make zombies to figure out how to kill them without undoing the spell," Faith said. "And that, I think, would be enough to keep him up nights."

"Past tense; not enough," Xander said.

"We also discussed her resurrecting someone, fully resurrecting someone," Faith said softly. "I may have briefly entertained the idea of having her resurrect someone."

"Who?" Willow asked, stopping Xander and Buffy before they could cry in outrage.

"The only mother I've ever really had," Faith said simply. Xander and Buffy deflated at that, finally acknowledging something Willow had been telling them since Faith's arrival; there was a lot they didn't know about Faith that Emily did. She knew enough to know whether the dark Slayer was dangerous and she trusted her implicitly. _Hasn't Emily proven herself enough?_

"That would be enough to keep him up at night if he thought she'd actually do it," Xander conceded.

"She wouldn't. Her answer was very clearly in the no. Apparently she had a vampire... friend in LA. He hit a little nine year old with a car. Emily brought her all the way back. When that little girl turned twelve, she killed her whole family and then herself. She had apparently been in heaven," Faith said softly. "Emily said something to the effect of having sworn off using magic or alchemy to play God. She still uses it to heal, since that was what she did before she went to sleep, but other than that she doesn't perform human alchemy anymore."

Buffy nodded quietly, the information absorbed and stored for later.

"I don't want you doing alchemy any more," Giles said bluntly when Emily entered the room. She stopped, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "Suppress it, let yourself fall out of practice, anything; just don't do it any more."

Emily, who was prone to backing down where Giles was concerned, reared up as Oz entered the room.

"Who are you, Mr. I-Summoned-Eyghon-And-Got-My-Best-Friend-Killed, Mr. Dropped-Out-Of-Oxford-To-Pursue-A-Career-As-A-Magical-Delinquent, to tell _me_ to stop doing alchemy?" Emily roared, drawing herself up to her full height. "At least I'm not doing it for money, or for my own personal amusement. At least _I'm_ trying to help people!"

Just as she was about to lunge at Giles, showing just how angry she was at the suggestion, Faith grabbed her around the middle.

"Emily, don't!" Faith said, pulling her close.

"Angel told me about your attack on the Fyral demon as well as the demon gang at the Bronze. You could have easily been killed," Giles said darkly.

"You don't get it," she spat. "Dad and I didn't pick someone else to be the philosopher's stone. We made _me_ the philosopher's stone."

"Your father would never have agreed to that," Giles said, sitting down heavily.

"He didn't," Emily hissed. "It took weeks of proper planning to put it in action. By the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to stop. It was either he kill me or finish the rite."

Giles recovered quickly, standing over her. "Reverse it."

"I can't."

"Then I will."

"You can't." It was not Emily, but Oz who said this. "No one can reverse the process of making a living philosopher's stone."

"It's never been done before," Giles said.

"Once, in the nine hundreds. He was turned. The Master," Emily said. "They tried to reverse the process before he became an alchemist in the flesh, but it was impossible. Once the transformation is made, it can not be undone."

"Why? Why did you do this?" Giles said, grabbing Emily's shoulders and shaking lightly. "Don't you realize how badly it could have gone wrong? It could have killed you? What is this damnable obsession you have with death?"

Emily tore free, spinning and facing away as she screamed, "I wanted to save them!" Panting, she collapsed, falling to her knees. "I wanted to protect them from what would come after me. I knew I would be powerful. I knew demons galore would want me on a collar and leash at their side. I thought... if I could become a channel for alchemy, a living embodiment of the most powerful substance on the planet, maybe I could keep them safe. I didn't understand the amount of training it would take before I could keep from discharging all my power in one blow. And now... I can fight with it. I can use it as a weapon, make it my shield. That's why I can't stop... why I can never stop. The second you keep me from the craft, when you suppress the art, you turn me back into that weak thirteen year old who didn't understand what she'd done to herself and we start all over again."

Giles knelt beside her, arms around her, and kissed her forehead. "Gone is the little girl I once knew," he whispered. "In her place stands a mighty warrior. I didn't mean to make you angry. I just..."

"Don't want to see me get hurt," Emily said, smiling ruefully. "Too late. I don't feel much of anything anymore. You know that better than anyone. Just... don't try anything like that again. I have to keep training, or I'll slip back into a useless power supply."

When it was Faith, and not Giles who hauled Emily to her feet, it was becoming painfully obvious that any attempts to separate them were going to be in vain. Faith was quickly displaying that her allegiances ran only with Faith and Giles, who had taken her in and treated her with respect.

Without Emily, Faith was nothing short of deadly.


	8. Airplanes

_I don't know if I established this before, but we're going to say, for all intents and purposes, that the drinking age in California was eighteen when everyone turned eighteen, and then went up… :D You'll roll with, I know you guys._

_Did I say know? I meant I love you guys._

_I've been working on some side-projects, trying to figure out how to repair my flash drive, and I've come to the conclusion that, short of a tech wizard, it's not getting fixed any time soon._

_So, I've picked up the old threads._

_But, the side projects… ooo-wee, the side projects. People are so rude out there in other fanfic land. Doesn't mean I'm going to let them stop me, but… it makes me appreciate how awesome you guys are and how loved you make me feel._

_So, this is my long awaited present to you. The next could be an even longer wait, because I wanted to get it out and then start building chapters, that way you know I'm not dead ;)_

_Enjoy!_

Chapter Seven: Airplane (I Could Use A Wish)

Emily sat on the roof of the crypt where Spike lived, staring up into the darkness of the sky. He was down below, gathering up blankets, and hadn't been saying much. Giles's outburst three days ago had rendered him fairly quiet. There hadn't been much time to talk about it, either. There'd only been time to do research and go on patrols, time to collapse into the bed and move on through the day like a zombie, praying that no one realized how tired they were.

A shooting star crossed the sky, and Emily wished with all her heart that she could make her way into the future.

"What's been on your mind, love?" Spike asked softly, handing her a blanket.

"My parents had a house in Sunnydale. It's bought and paid for, down the street from UC Sunnydale. I got an offer the other day to graduate early," she replied, wrapping the thick wool around her body.

"You're thinking about moving out of Giles's house?" Spike asked.

"You saw what happened. I can't let it keep going like that. The less he knows, the better. It'll just lead to fights. He doesn't seem to understand that I'm an adult. It's time for me to make my own mistakes," she said softly.

Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. For a moment, they sat in silence, staring up at the sky, watching airplanes flying by, and Emily wished so hard on every one, hoping against hope that maybe one would work.

"I'm moving out," Emily said softly.

It was Saturday, and everyone had gathered at Giles's house for even more research. She and Faith had been upstairs, discussing the future, and Emily had told the young woman of her plans. When asked where that left Faith, she had offered her a room.

Giles looked up at her with a snort, but the expression of amusement faded when he saw that she was serious.

"Good God, what has gotten into that head of yours, Emily?" he asked, standing up.

"There are some things about me you're uncomfortable with, I know that. I also know that we've been way too much in each other's space lately. We need this, before everything falls apart."

"Emily," he began, but she held up a hand.

"Mom and Dad's old house became mine when they died. I'm not going far, and you're always welcome."

"What about high school?"

"Principal Snyder offered to let me graduate early. I think he thinks it'll keep me out of this plot of his. Really, all it's going to do is give me a chance to get into the mayor's hair."

"Hey, speaking of the mayor," Xander said suddenly. "Did we ever figure out what Ethan was doing in town?"

"He was here for Emily," Faith said, puzzled.

"He was here for something else, too," Emily said, her brow furrowed.

"Great," Buffy sighed. "He's greasy enough without all the suspense."

Emily snorted before sitting in the armchair. "I caught something about chocolate bars, and marching band."

Eyes widening, Xander and Willow pulled a box each of chocolate bars out of their bags.

"Band candy," everyone whispered.

It didn't take long to figure out what was in the chocolate bars. Everyone was confused when Buffy's mom appeared, acting like a drunken teen, but the minute Giles started acting like Ripper, Emily had them both locked upstairs in his room.

"We've got to find the factory," Buffy snapped.

"What about the baby-eating demon?" Xander replied.

"Xander," Faith said calmly. "We're Slayers. Killing demons is what we do."

With that, everyone was off.

"One of these days, I'm going to kill that bastard," Emily pants.

She had spent a considerable amount of the battle Faith and Buffy were involved in using the shielding spell she and Willow had perfected a few days earlier. She felt like she'd run a marathon with a bag of rocks around her neck, not to mention the greasy, garbage feeling that accompanied magic use. She wondered fruitlessly how many showers she could get in before she, Faith, and Spike would have to start with the packing.

"Yes, I'm sure you or Giles will," Faith said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You did good today, girlie. Both of you did."

"Thanks," Willow replied.

"Magic's pretty draining, I guess," Buffy said, looking at her two best friends.

"When you're not tapping into Goddess powers, absolutely. We were feeding off each other the whole time. It's not as hard as flying solo, but you were about to lose your insta-deflection at the end," Emily replied.

"That thing's pretty handy," Faith offered.

"Yeah, it is."

The return trip back to Giles's apartment gave them a run in with Spike, who threatened murderous intentions at ever being left wondering where Emily had gone again. She laughed lightly, wrapping an arm around his waist, and leaned into him.

"No problem, Big Bad."

Emily went in first, and the fact that she did allowed her to spare Buffy any future scarring.

"You know, they're probably both asleep," she said, turning back and pulling the door almost all the way shut. "I'll wake her up in the morning, okay? Sleep may just get rid of it faster."

"All… right?" Buffy said, confusion in her voice and painting her features.

As if from nowhere, Angel appeared, and Emily smiled as he managed to distract her enough to draw her away. Over his shoulder, he tossed a wink.

"What's really going on?" Faith asked.

"Oh, nothing. My uncle and Buffy's mom are upstairs doing the nasty."

At that, everyone burst out laughing and headed inside.

The next morning was one of the hardest ones Emily had ever experienced, and it had nothing to do with her uncle's clinginess. To the contrary, the previous night's reminder of what being a teenager was like seemed to serve as a stark wake-up call to Giles, and a prompt that he, himself, had fought for a path on which he could stumble over his own pitfalls, rather than his father's.

No, it was hard just because it was a reminder that life moved on, and nothing ever stayed still for long. Giles was kind enough to drive all of Faith and Emily's stuff over to the house, and even stayed for dinner with them, despite Spike's appearance. The conversation was roaring and raucous, and, at the end of the night, everyone knew that it was the right thing.

"What do you think?" Emily asked as she closed the door after her uncle. "Official house-warming party on Friday?"

"Definitely."

Friday night was a big night for everyone. It was the first No-Patrol-No-Research-Just-Fun get together they'd had in a while, and Emily was determined not to let psychotic Watchers dampen the spirits of everyone there.

"It's Christmas!" Emily shouted finally, after everyone was there. "Spiked eggnog and fucked up board games all around!"

There was a lot of laughter at that, and Emily, Faith, and Spike began handing out cups of eggnog. After that, it was game over. There was a lot of drunken hooliganry, a lot of present exchanging, and one very disastrous game of Twister. At the end of the night, there was a lot of slipping away.

The first to go were Faith and Xander. They were also the least intoxicated, which made it all the more interesting. Silently, and at different times, they got up and just drifted away. One after the other, they found their way to Faith's poster-covered, very teenage-badass room.

"You wanna… talk?" Faith asked, the uncertainty in her voice a first for them both.

"Sure," he answered softly.

Xander kicked off his shoes beside hers and shut the door. He sat down carefully against the footboard of the bed, and only after Faith pulled her feet up on the mattress did he do so. He folded his legs gingerly, and assumed the position of a monk.

"Ooom," he said with a smile.

Faith laughed lightly and forced herself to relax.

"Why do you think Emily's always so cold to me?" Xander asked suddenly. "It's like I did something to offend her, but the worst we ever did was jabber on around her."

"She's pissed off because there's nothing she can do to get you out of your house. It's nothing personal," Faith said softly. "And _we_ think she might have a plan, so she's probably keeping her distance."

"Now, wait a second, my parents might be assholes, but I don't want them dead!"

"She wouldn't kill them, trust me."

_Better tell her that, just as a heads up._

Downstairs, Willow had finally fallen over onto Oz, and they were curled up together on the couch in the silence of sleep. Buffy and Angel had retreated to the guest room after Giles's wild claim that he was going to Jenny's house (a claim that Emily had no doubt was reality), and Spike and Emily had gone to their room.

At the beginning of the week, while Willow and Emily were pouring over their Calculus text, Emily to prepare for the final and Willow to just get her homework done, Spike had begun the tedious process of blocking the sunlight from the upstairs windows without making it look obvious that he was blocking the sunlight from the upstairs windows. He had begun in their bedroom with a roll of matte-black tinting sticker and had worked his way around and down, blocking off all the windows in the house, and yet making it look like he hadn't. From the outside, it merely looked like that stuff people put over so you can't see in and they can't see out.

That, combined with blackout curtains in all the rooms prevented him from being fried in the daytime.

Now, confident he wasn't going to get burned into a crispy critter, he dove onto the bed, a silly smile on his face. He was drunk, as was Emily, who followed him closely onto the bed. With her own quiet confidence, she pulled herself flush against him, pressing her lips to his. She buried her fingers in his hair, which he'd begun to leave loose at her request, and closed out any semblance of distance between them.

This was as far as they had gotten; in each other's arms, breathing heavily, bite marks and wet bruises abound, and almost all the clothes still on. Even in her drunken state, Emily's sexual fears were prominent. They were fading, but Spike knew it would be a long time before she would be willing to go that far.

He was content with it.

Even as the PG-13 hot and heavy was concluding in Emily and Spike's room, the rest of the house was growing more and more silent with sleep.

The next morning, Faith rolled out of her bed with a groan. When she hit the soft, plush rug at the foot of her bed, that groan became a moan. It wasn't that she had a hangover; she hadn't relaxed in so long, and her muscles had been enjoying it. Xander, however, had a hangover; that was made obvious when he sat up and put his head in his hands.

It took a moment, but then the smell hit.

Bacon frying, pancakes being flipped, eggs being scrambled; a variety of breakfast smells assaulted their senses. Faith helped Xander out of bed and they shuffled to the stairs and down into the kitchen. Next to Spike and Emily, they were the first down in the kitchen.

"How does this work? You were still drinking long after we stopped, and yet you don't appear to be as effected as… well… me," Xander groaned.

Without looking up from the pancake she was diligently prying from the griddle, Emily opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, which she threw to Faith.

"We have a problem," Spike said as they sat down.

"A problem?" Faith echoed.

"Em?"

"I woke up early this morning to a… most unfortunate of sights," she said softly.

"Aside from Spike's face?" Xander quipped.

Although the aforementioned vampire looked affronted, Emily smiled for a moment. "One of the Harbingers of Death. The Three Priests that cater to the First."

"The First? First what?" Faith asked.

"The First Evil."

"You mean the devil?" Xander asked.

"Before that. Before man, demon, vampire, space, time, God, and the Devil. Before even the Goddess herself. The embodiment of all evil that has ever or will ever exist. It can take the form of any that have died, including vampires and those who have been resurrected. I don't know what it wants, but it can't be good."

"So how do we kill it?"

"We'd have to find it. The Bringers only summon a manifestation of the First, not the beast itself. We'll have to kill the Bringers."

"And where do we find them?" Xander asked.

"I dunno, but Uncle Rupert might."


	9. In The Business of Misery

Chapter Eight- In The Business of Misery

Sitting on the floor of her uncle's apartment, Emily watched him shuffle around with an ice pack held tightly to his head. She wondered when the last time he'd been so drunk had been. It was unlikely, however, that she'd ever find out.

Jenny blushed when she came out of the bedroom in a robe, but Emily only smiled and went back to observing her uncle.

"If you'd just tell me where the book is, I can get it," she said finally. "We're gearing up for hardcore research anyway."

"Without me?" he asked.

"I figured you wouldn't want to, given your… current situation. If you want to come, you're more than welcome," she answered.

"Good, that will give us a chance to swing by the school. I'm sure I can find something there."

"About the Bringers?"

"No. To quell my headache."

It took perhaps a half an hour to gather up anything that might have a chance at shedding some light on the Bringers and get Giles some extra strength aspirin for his headache. By the time they made it back to the house, Spike had already been appraised of the situation. He had two plates of breakfast sitting on the kitchen table by the time everyone got back.

"Good lord, you've made a feast," Giles said, sitting down in front of it.

"I woke you up extraordinarily early in the morning to come to a research session at my house after a night of heavy drinking. It was the least I could do," she replied before gesturing to the seat with the other plate. "Ms. Calendar."

Jenny took a seat across from Giles, and Emily and Faith set about hauling the books in. By the time everyone had something to skim, except Angel, Jenny and Giles were done with breakfast.

"Ms. Calendar, there's a computer at the end of the hall with internet access, if you'd like to do your voodoo with it," Emily said with a smile. "Uncle Rupert, if you'd come upstairs with me."

Buffy looked up from her book, but Emily held a hand up behind her back, gesturing for her to stay. She led her uncle up the stairs and to the guest bedroom, where Angel was curled into a tight ball, staring at the window.

"Good heavens."

"He was visited by what we think is a manifestation of the first. He had nightmares about people he's killed, culminating in his actually taking Jenny's life," she said softly. "He's been like that since we came up this morning to check on them."

"Them meaning him and Buffy," he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"I'll tell you how we did it later," she replied.

"Ah. More of that clandestine magic of yours?" he assumed.

"Absolutely."

For a moment there was silence, and then Angel seemed to notice their presence in the room.

"I'm fine," he said softly.

"Bull shit." It was not Emily that said it, but Giles. He cleared his throat, and continued, "To use that particular Americanism. You are most certainly not fine, and you must get over trying to pretend that you are so for everyone else's sake. It's not going to help. Now, if I could get… as much detail as is necessary about the events of last night."

"I… I went to sleep after Buffy. And… at first, it… my dreams were normal. And then… I… I started dreaming I was Angelus… and there wasn't… I couldn't… I had no control. And… I- There was this maid that I k-killed. And she… at the last second… It wasn't her. It was Buffy. And then I woke up, and the maid was standing in the corner. And… she was taunting me. She told me that… that I had to kill Buffy," he said softly.

"How did you come to the conclusion that it was the First?" Giles asked, turning to Emily.

"What? You don't believe me?"

"No, I do. I'm just wondering how your mind came to that conclusion."

"One of the Bringers was in my bedroom when I woke up this morning."

"Uncle Rupert! Please, stop!"

He was throwing things around in the trunk of his car, looking for the ingredients to a warding spell.

"Uncle! Willow and I already did the spell!"

"You… you did?" he asked.

"Yes. We did it as soon as she got up this morning, around the whole house. For the exact reason that I knew you'd want it done. Now please, can we get back to research and see if we can't find out how to get rid of this thing, before it drives Angel completely nuts?"

Sighing, Giles followed his niece into the living room of her house, just as Jenny came running out of the back room.

"I've got it. The Harbingers of Death emit an aura that sterilizes the earth and kills plants above or below where they're at!" she said, handing a page she'd printed to Buffy.

"Great. Now all we have to do is drive around Sunnydale until we find a patch of dead things," Xander said darkly. "Cause that's totally going to be the hardest thing to do ever."

"We don't have to," Buffy remarked. "When my mom and I went Christmas tree shopping, there was a patch of dead trees, where everything around them was alive."

"Beneath a Christmas tree nursery? How original," Faith said softly.

"How do we want to do this? There's only three," Spike said thoughtfully.

"How exactly did you come by that?" Giles asked.

"Call it a hunch," Emily said, her eyes downcast.

"Ah, been reading through my library again?" he asked.

She said nothing, instead looked to Buffy.

"He's your boyfriend. If you want to go for it, we'd be more than willing to, ah, hold down the fort and make sure Angel doesn't do anything… completely stupid."

Buffy nodded and began arming herself.

Within fifteen minutes, she was out of the house, headed to take down the demons that had dared to "fuck with" her "boyfriend". As she left, Emily turned her gaze upstairs.

"Should we… I mean… it is mostly dark now… prime opportunity to escape and everything," she said softly.

"Who volunteers to check on the soon-to-be-psychopath?" Faith announced.

No one raised their hand, and, with a sigh, Emily turned to the stairs. "If you hear me scream, it's probably nothing. If you hear glass breaking, then come running."

Without another word, she headed up the stairs and into the guest room.

Angel was meditating on the bed in silence, and she could tell that he was trying to center himself, to block the First at every pass. Loathe to break the trance, Emily went to leave, but he interrupted her.

"Don't leave on my account," he said softly.

"Sorry. We just… wanted to make sure you hadn't done something stupid," she answered.

"I get it. You said this… thing has been known to drive people crazy, right?"

"Yeah," Emily said, at the last minute remembering that his eyes were closed and he couldn't see her nod.

"And I don't exactly have the best mental health record of anyone on the face of the planet," he added.

"Better than mine," she scoffed. "You were at least able to hold an intelligent, verbal conversation without fear that you were going to start an ancient ritual that would bring your parents back to life."

Angel gave her a half smirk.

"There we go," she said softly. "Is she still around?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Emily nodded, and she took a seat on the bed across from him, her back against the footboard. They sat in silence for a while, and she was reminded of the times she had spent in Angel's apartment thing, sitting around, making and painting figurines, just chilling, hoping that her presence would be enough to convey that it wasn't his fault.

"I don't understand how you can sit there, across from me, and be so comfortable," he said softly

"Did you know that Angelus's face has a very sinister cast? His eyes… looking into them is like looking into the eyes of a man who kills because he enjoys it. Someone could get cut with just those eyes," she said softly. "And the set of his mouth… it's always sarcastic, sneering. He's never kind. Never."

Angel looked at her, but her gaze was centered on the wall, as if every miniscule detail she could recall was painted there. It seemed dreadfully important, almost as much so as the big picture itself. She seemed to have lost herself in thought and memories. Never before had Angel watched someone recall something so obviously painful, and yet she did so with a smile on her face.

"But you," she said finally, tearing her gaze away from the wall. "You look like him in the face, when someone can see only your appearance. But I know better. I've seen you, Angel, not necessarily all of you, but a good deal. When someone gets to know you well enough to be able to look into your eyes and see the details, it's not hard to tell the difference. There is not cruelty in your eyes, no sneer in the set of your mouth. You're the picture of a man who feels so much guilt for actions he had almost no control over. You were possessed by a demon, Angel. In a way, the Kalderash Clan did you a favor. They gave you a chance at control."

Angel bowed his head, loosing himself in thought. He'd never considered it like that, but he wasn't shocked she had. Emily had the ability to look at all things from every angle in a split second and realize what the right way of looking at it was.

His head came up, and, although Emily couldn't see it, the First stood there. He leapt off the bed before she could speak, and lunged after it.

"Angel!"

The thunder up the stairs was nothing compared to the shattering of glass. Emily came up, not considering her course of action, simply taking it. She dove out the window, rolling down the roof and catching the branch of a nearby tree to slow her descent. She spun around it once and dropped to the ground before taking off. Although she couldn't see it, she knew that he was chasing after the First, unaware that he couldn't damage it with his hands.

She poured on the speed, not heeding the cries of the others to return.

Emily chased him all the way to Kingman's Bluff, where he dropped to his knees, staring out at the wide expanse before him. The air had grown exceptionally cold, and she shivered as she approached him.

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just end it. It would be safer for all of you," he said softly.

"You kill yourself now and Willow and I will have to bring you back and kill you again. You'd be wasting months of work, not to mention the heart of our friend, and that, sir, is an offense for which the penalty is death," she snapped. "Now get up."

As she finished, Buffy came up the hill after them. Something had told her where to find Angel, what he was thinking. She slid to a stop in the grass beside him, cupping his face in her hands and turning it towards him.

"Hey," she said softly. "You're not allowed to be Mr. Broody Pants. Willow might seriously hurt you, and I for one don't like it."

He cracked a half grin.

"_You_ have never done anything to hurt me. Or to hurt Emily. Or even to hurt Ms. Calendar," Buffy continued. "It was all Angelus. And he's never coming back."

Angel nodded weakly, and Buffy pulled him close. As they shared a kiss, a fat, white snow-flake fell from the sky, landing smack on Emily's nose. She wrinkled it, and that seemed to be some unearthly signal. The sky opened up, and the rain it dropped was white.

"Great. Snow," she harrumphed.

Buffy and Angel looked up, and the smiles on their faces, Emily decided, were worth all the white, wet stuff that was falling. Together, Buffy and Angel stood, and hand in hand they turned from the edge.

"Emily, you coming?" Angel asked.

"I'll catch up."

As they disappeared over the hill, Emily turned back to the bluff.

"Oh, My Lady," she whispered. "How you have blessed me. How grateful I am for all the friends you've surrounded me with, the love and compassion they have. I only have one request. For the duration of the snow, can we _not_ have to fight any demons?"

It was a sign of how muffling snow was on Emily's instincts that she didn't realize he was there sooner. She whipped around as a scrawny, black vampire stepped out of the trees.

"What a touching plea; a Christmas free of demons. Too bad it will come true for every one of your friends, but not for you," he said.

Before Emily could react, Ethan Rayne was behind her, a rag-full of chloroform over her mouth.

A block away from the bluff, Buffy and Angel turned around.

"Where the hell is Emily?" Buffy asked.

"That's not good," Angel said.

They took off back toward the bluffs, but, when they got to the top, there was no one there, and the heavily falling snow erased all signs of struggle. Uneasily, the pair headed back down, running back to the house. They burst in the door, and Spike stood anxiously.

"Is she not here?" Angel asked.

Spike was down the stairs in a flash, arm at his throat.

"She was going to protect you," he snarled. "Where is she?"

"Spike!" Buffy said, pulling his arm back. "She needed a moment alone. She said she'd catch up. When we got far enough ahead that she should have caught up, we turned to look for her. She wasn't there."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Is she blocking the link?" Giles asked.

"No. It's just dark."

"We've got to find her," Giles said darkly, grabbing his coat.

"Hang on," Faith snapped, stepping in front of the dark. "Going off all half cocked and combing the city isn't going to help."

"Then what to you suggest?" Giles snarled.

"We organize. There's nine of us, so three groups of two and one of three. We pair off and each take a different part of the city. We'll comb through it that way, and then we have an organized search."

"Angel and I will check the area around Kingman's Bluff," Buffy said softly.

"Weapons storage is down in the basement," Spike directed.

"Alright, well, Oz and I will check… um…"

"We'll hit the residential district in the south end. See if we can't find some suspicious activity," Oz finished.

They went down to get geared up as Jenny took Giles's hand. "We'll comb the north end, if you take the business district and the cemeteries," she said softly.

Faith nodded, and everyone finished arming themselves down stairs.

Because of the snowfall, there were no blankets required for the vampires to exit the house. Everyone went their separate ways, and began to comb the city of Sunnydale.

Emily awoke with a coppery taste in her mouth, a taste that was far to reminiscent of the last time she'd awoken tied to a surface of any kind. This time, however, she was tied to a chair, not a table.

She didn't delude herself into thinking this situation would be any less torturous than the last.

"Ah, good to see you're awake."

The voice she heard wasn't one she recognized, but it sounded far too sunshiny and happy to be anyone other than the one nefarious plotter she was intending to thwart. Looking up confirmed her suspicions; it was the mayor.

"Given your… recent history, I can't imagine this is an unusual position for you to awaken in," he said, spinning a pen between his fingers.

Although his demeanor was pleasant enough, the aura surrounding him was black as night.

She said nothing.

"Going to give me the silent treatment, then? Ah, you teenagers are all alike, aren't you? I'm a family man, Ms. Gable. I think you'll find I'm more than capable of dealing with silence," he said gently.

He drew a knife from the cupboard and, for the first time, Emily became aware that the chair she was in was situated over a drop cloth. He had anticipated having to torture her for information.

"This can be as pleasant of a conversation as you'd like it to be, Ms. Gable. I will get my answers, and you will give them to me."

Emily looked at him, defiance in her eyes. "You can torture me all day, all night, and then some. I'll never tell you what you want to know. That I can promise you."

"Oh, really? What I can do will make what Angelus did to you seem like child's play," he said softly.

"Please. I've heard better threats for eleven year olds."

Wilkins drove the knife through her hand, burying it in the wood of the arm chair beneath it, but Emily didn't even flinch. She knew; the secret to her escape was in angering him. The longer she was able to hold him off, the easier it would be.

"It's a shame to waste so precious a substance as the elixir of life," Wilkins said softly, drawing another, longer knife from behind his desk. "But it would only make the vampires too strong to handle, and we can't have that now can we. I certainly don't need it either, so I imagine it will just have to go to waste.

"For every question you don't answer, I'm going to cut you. I won't take any of your fingers or limbs, since you will only repair that damage later. But, for every cut I have to make, you'll find that this particular knife is very good at making even small ones extremely painful."

There was more anger and hate in her heart than she had ever felt, and she spit darkly into his face.

"Not a wise choice, my dear."


	10. The Mirror on the Wall

**_Long time, no update. I'm sorry, guys, I promise this was almost entirely done on my flash drive and now it's just… *poof* so I have to finish again. Promise I'll get it going good, and the second ending will be even better than the first._**

**_For now, enjoy!_**

* * *

Chapter Nine- The Mirror on the Wall

True to her word, Emily didn't say a word. Beyond her original defiance, she made no other sound. No matter how broken, bloody and disheveled she looked, she spoke not a word, nor made a semblance of an acknowledgement of pain. When Wilkins was finally satisfied that she wasn't going to talk and that she was probably going to die, he set Mr. Trick about dropping her off in front of her house, for the others to see.

When they threw her out, Spike came running.

His eyes were wide and filled with tears as he dropped to his knees beside her. He brushed her ragged, bloody hair back from her face, and rocked her back and forth in his lap.

"Not… dead…" she whispered.

He didn't even question it; he had known since she disappeared two days ago that she'd been blocking the link so he wouldn't feel her pain. Instead, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house.

"Downstairs," she commanded.

He'd already anticipated every scenario, an ability he'd learned from her, and there was already a healing transmutation circle drawn on the basement floor. Weakly, she touched her hands together. As he sat down in the center, she let them fall to the floor. There was a blinding flash of light, and, for a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, her skin began to knit itself back together. She let out a groan, and Spike dipped his head over her, resting his forehead against hers.

"Share it with me. Please?" he whispered.

"It's bad."

"I don't care."

She unblocked the link, and the rush of pain and fear was enormous. He'd never known Emily to harbor such a large amount of fear in her body before. Fear of dying before her work was done, fear of never seeing Spike again, fear that the Mayor was going to win; all of it flooded him. There was never fear for her own safety, no; only fear for others.

It was scary, how little she thought about herself.

He was able to take some of the pain from her, to balance it between them so that it wasn't such an overwhelming mass in just one of them. And, as her skin began to knit itself together, the pain dwindled down to just her hand.

"That one's going to have to heal on its own," she whispered, sitting up.

He crushed her to his chest, whispering his own fears to her. He seemed to alternate back and forth between angry that she'd locked him out and terrified he was never going to see her again.

"And that's nothing to what Giles has been going through," he finished softly.

"We'd better call him."

"Do we tell him…"

"We've got to get them all here, and then we'll tell all of them."

Upstairs, Emily took a deep breath before she dialed the number of her uncle's apartment.

_"Any news, Spike?_"

"I'm not Spike, and I'm back."

"_Emily! Good lord, I'm coming right over._"

"Hang on, okay. Just wait a second."

"_What is it?_"

"Call the rest of the Scoobies. Pick them all up in your car, and pull it around back. I don't know who all is watching the house. They can't know I'm alive."

"_Why?_"

"Because I shouldn't be."

"Every time he turned away, for whatever reason, I… well… I drank my own blood," Emily admitted.

"That's… gross. Ingenious, but very gross," Willow said softly.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Wait, what am I missing? Why did drinking your own blood help?" Xander asked sharply.

"Living, breathing embodiment of the philosopher's stone," Giles said softly, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but it was actually quite a good thing you tricked your father into turning you. You'd be dead if he hadn't."

"Hello? Still left out," Xander said, waving his hands in the air.

"What does the philosopher's stone do, Xander?' Emily asked softly. "It turns any metal into gold, and it produces the elixir of life. Because I'm human, I can choose when I turn a metal into gold, but I don't have the luxury of being able to control when the elixir of life is produced, because it's running through my veins."

"Wait… does that mean…"

"That I'm immortal? If I chose to drink a glass of my own blood every day for the rest of my life, yes," she said softly. "Believe it or not, there's some good things that have come out of this."

"Oh, yeah?" Giles asked.

"I know who the players are. Ethan's still doing work for the Mayor, through a relatively young vampire named Mr. Trick. Trick doesn't like getting his hands dirty, so he does a lot of subcontracting, but, after the band candy debacle, where Buffy was able to thwart his plans, he's been forced to step up to plate. He's got his fingers in everything now," she said softly.

"How has he survived this long?"

"He's made deals with demons, like Lurconis. He pays them a tribute, they keep him alive. He's in the process of becoming one; Olvikan."

"Ol… vikan?" Buffy said. "That's a mouthful."

"Call him Obi Wan if you want," she said with a smile.

"Star Wars!" Xander cheered.

"Faith, love, you are dating the king of nerds," Emily quipped.

"Yeah, and I love every nerdy second of it."

For the first time since Emily disappeared, the Scoobies laughed.

"Alright," Giles said as everyone calmed down. "There's still some questions I have. Most of which he kept you for two days, and you escaped mostly unharmed. How?"

Emily's eyes darkened, and she rolled up the sleeve of the long sweatshirt she was wearing. The lattice work of scars caused everyone to sober instantly, and Giles traced one of them.

"Alchemy?"

"It was the only way I was going to live through it. By the point they threw me out, not even the elixir would have kept me going much longer," she whispered.

Giles enfolded her in a tight embrace, a trail of tears being painted down her cheeks. "I understand now. To have you not there… If I couldn't have gone back to the apartment, I would have gone mad. In the end, I was well on my way. And then… Spike thought of everything. He wouldn't have even been there if you'd been staying at the apartment. I'm so sorry I ever doubted your decision."

"Don't be. None of us could have seen this."

Giles pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes. Straightening his tweed, he resumed his seat on the edge of the chair.

"So, what do we do now?"

"The Mayor doesn't know I'm alive. Neither does Trick. They all assumed I'd be dead before any of you could even get here," she said softly.

"Ah, ha, which means we have an asset they no longer know about," Faith surmised.

"Exactly. Not only that, but, well…"

Giles and Willow leaned forward. "There's a complicated projection spell we can do. Something that will make me look like a ghost, and let me spy on the mayor."

"Spells like that require something of-" Willow started, but stopped when Spike pulled out an ornately handled dagger.

"Something like this should do the trick, right?" he asked.

"Where'd you get that?" Giles asked.

"He pulled it out of my hand," Emily replied, holding up her bandaged right hand and flexing it gingerly.

"There's still one thing we haven't discussed," Faith said. "Something that Emily and I had been tossing around but we never brought up."

"Oh, right," Emily said. "You wanna do the honors? It'd be your neck."

"We thought about dusting Mr. Trick, and setting me up in his place."

"That's a dangerous game. At some point, we'd have to take you out, and it would likely be painful," Buffy said softly.

"That's the point," she countered. "We get him acting like a father around me, then we take him out of the game. The only way we're going to be able to kill him at this point is when he ascends. We'll have to sabotage his forces, which would surely be coming along, but it would be a matter of destroying them without his knowledge."

"How would he be able to ascend like that and have vampires come around?"

"Graduation day falls on an eclipse," Willow said suddenly. "He's making a speech at graduation day."

"Then that's when it will happen."

"I'm confused," Xander said, raising his hand. "Are we talking about _letting_ this guy turn into a giant demon thing on graduation day?"

"Yeah. And we're gonna have to start educating people on how to fight. He's gonna have an army. So should we."

"Xander! Hey, Xander!"

Emily jogged up to him, walking beside him with a hood pulled up to cover her hair and her identity. She looped her arm through his and steered him away from the students.

"What's up?"

"I want you to come live with us," she said finally.

Xander raised an eyebrow at her.

"Look, Faith told me that you're too bloody noble to let me kill your parents, so I decided this was the next best thing. You're over eighteen now. There's nothing they can say," she explained. "And plus, Faith is too much to handle when you're not around, trust me."

Xander cracked a smile and nodded. "I'd like that. Very much."

"So… it's your choice. You can announce it, or we can sneak your stuff out of the basement and they never have to know," she said softly.

"They won't notice either way. We'll just… sneak it out and let them figure it out."

With that established, Emily found her way over to Xander's house. In silence, with boxes she had had hidden in the trunk of Spike's car, she and Faith began packing up Xander's basement room. They were careful to make no noise, and Emily kept a strict eye on the time. It wouldn't do to have Xander come home, not with what she and Faith had heard before Emily finally broke and nearly killed them.

It took the Slayer and the Alchemist almost three hours to pack up all of Xander's room and get it in the car. Emily sent Faith back to the house, and waited up the road for Xander.

"Hey, Emily," he said softly when they were within speaking distance. "What's up?"

"You… can't go home," she replied.

"What did you do?"

"_I_ didn't do anything. It's about what they're planning to do to you," she answered quietly. "Believe it or not, Faith stopped me from doing anything 'stupid' although if you ever wanted-"

Xander held up a hand. "Say no more. I'm yours."

Emily smiled. "No. You're Faith's."

While the Go Fish semifinals raged downstairs, Emily sat on the bathroom counter, staring into the full-length mirror on the wall across from herself. The scars of her captivity in the Mayor's office were beginning to fade, but she knew that they would never fully leave her, much as the scars of Angelus's torture would also never leave. And so she resigned herself to a life of scars, physical and mental.

With a gentle finger, she traced the only facial scar she had.

It was light, almost unnoticeable; just one curved mark following the eye socket, a "gift" from Angelus. It had been intended to make her less attractive, but Angel had since admitted to her that it only made her the more beautiful because she wore it with pride. Spike, too had observed it. Emily, however, had another reason for keeping it.

It was the last cut he made before he raped her.

She'd come so close to screaming as his knife dug into the soft flesh of her face, but his penis had caused all thoughts of sound out the window. She'd shut down. And, it had saved her life, even though Angel would never see it that way. Her ability to shut down and block sensations had also rendered her totally and completely speechless. She hadn't been able to scream, and therefore couldn't have fulfilled Angelus's one requirement to kill her.

It had allowed her another good year of life.

"Mirrors say a lot about people," Xander said softly.

Emily didn't jump, but she did turn her gaze to look at him. "I'm guessing you lost."

"Yeah. It's all Faith and Spike."

"It usually is."

"You thinking about that night?" Xander asked, pulling himself up on the counter beside her.

"This was the cut that almost killed me," she said softly. "I was so ready to die, and all I had to do was scream. Right here, I almost did."

"Why didn't you?"

"What he did next caused me to shut down completely. You can't scream if you're a living doll."

"Jesus. What did he do?"

"Can't tell you," Emily said softly. "That's between him and me, like most of that night."

"Spike knows," Xander replied.

"Not much. He only knows what he was allowed to see."

"And you two trust each other enough, yada, yada, yada," he surmised.

Emily nodded.

"Do you think we'll ever be that comfortable around each other?" he asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because your loyalty… your friendship, even, is the sole property of Buffy," Emily said softly. "And, I can promise you that she and I won't always see eye-to-eye. You're always welcome here, but it's unlikely that we'll ever be that close."

"At least you're honest," he sighed.

"I don't know how to be anything else. Now, c'mon. Let's go see what the damage is. "


End file.
